


From the Ashes

by AbsinthexMind



Series: Heir of Ash and Fire [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alliances, Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, Arranged Marriage, Assassination Attempt(s), Character Death, Escape, Exile, F/M, Fights, Fire, Grief/Mourning, Heartbreak, Marriage Proposal, Original Character(s), Political Alliances, Prophecy, Prophetic Dreams, Protectiveness, Running Away, Secrets, Travel, War, World Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-26
Updated: 2020-10-16
Packaged: 2020-10-29 08:40:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 19
Words: 45,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20793815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AbsinthexMind/pseuds/AbsinthexMind
Summary: A year has passed since (y/n) and her brother Jaime fled from King's Landing to the vast and foreign world of Essos. Meanwhile back in Westeros, Rhaegar's army is advancing forward to overthrow King Aerys.





	1. Part 1

The warm heat that blazed from the sun above the city of Myr hit you hard as you ran through the streets, breathing heavily with burning lungs. Sweat collected at your hairline and ran down your face nearly blinding you. 

You had to keep going though. 

Around that corner and then another. Leaping over crates and barrels and trying your best not to run into people. They already looked at you as if you were crazy. Surely though they must have seen stranger things than a young lady running around the city with a sword. 

One backstreet led you right to a dead end and you internally curse. 

A scuffle of a boot behind you alerts you to the man you had been running from. Taking a deep breath you angle your sword. 

He charges at you, swinging his sword. You block it but the impact pushes you back against the stone wall. Sword hand trembling, you use all the strength you had acquired to push him back. 

“C’mon, little sister.” Jaime grins. He could’ve easily overpowered you. “Utilize what I taught you.” 

You willed your sword to slide along his blade as you dodged him, pivoting here and there and blocking each of his attacks. Jaime grinned. 

“Good girl.” He praised you and grew even more ferocious with his swings. His feet moving in a dizzying dance as you became his flustered partner. You kept your mind numb though and easily fell into place. That is until Jaime knocked the sword from your hand. You tumble to the ground, still fearful that he might accidentally cut you. Hot dirt and dust kicked up into your face as you panted, trying to catch your breath. 

Jaime held out a hand to you. “You did very well this time (y/n). You’re getting better at holding your own. In a fight.” 

“Do you think. . .” You suck in air despite it doing very little to relieve your lungs. “Do you think I’ll become as good as you?” 

He shrugs and wipes away the dirt from his own face. “There’s always that possibility.” 

Ever since making it to Essos the both of you had grown considerably tan from the unrelenting sun that was fixated above. 

For you it hadn’t been an easy transition. You felt every bit of the word ‘fugitive’ as you and Jaime had fled to Essos. It was obvious that in Westeros you weren’t safe. Someone had tried to kill you twice and Jaime would be damned if there were to be a third time. The last attempt had unfortunately killed your hand maid Thalina; and as you would find out it was Thalina who instructed Jaime to take you to Volantis if anything were to happen to her. The exact answer of why was still a mystery as even Jaime didn’t know despite having spoken to her. 

A year had passed since your time in Westeros. It had just been you and Jaime traveling along the coast of Essos, trying to avoid the land known as Chroyane where the infamous stone men now called their home. 

You had learned many things while being in Essos. One of those being that it was difficult for a woman to travel without being harassed, especially one such as yourself who barely spoke Valyrian and looked every bit the part of foreigner. 

That’s where the sword in your hand now came into play. 

Jaime had been teaching you how to fight with a sword. You couldn’t have asked for a greater teacher than your older brother. In Westeros he was a god among men, even at such a young age. That didn’t change when you landed in Essos. From Braavos all the way to Myr, Jaime still hadn’t lost a fight. There were many men who would try to rob you, even though neither you or your brother possessed anything of wealth. You hadn’t had time to grab anything when Jaime rescued you from the burning Keep. 

If anything, you had wished he had been able to rescue Thalina. Neither of you spoke of her much as now her very person seemed to be a mystery. When Rhaella had first brought Thalina into your service, she had seemed a ditzy and clumsy type of girl who had a short term memory of things. A very likeable girl nonetheless. When you were poisoned though, that’s when she seemed to show who she truly was. The story of Azor Ahai and the Long Night, her fluent knowledge of Valyrian. . . The Thalina you had come to know wasn’t actually the real Thalina but someone parading around as a maid. Every night you would think about her. Wonder who it was that killed her for it wasn’t the fire. Jaime had told you that from what he could see, the source that had killed her was a strike to her head. It was a grizzly fact that Jaime had refrained from telling you but you were insistent. You wanted to know what happened that night for you had no clue. You were out like a light thanks to the milk of the poppy you had taken before bed. It was too late for regrets, but you desperately wished that you hadn’t had milk of the poppy. Then maybe Thalina would still be alive. 

One thing you didn’t really believe when Jaime told you was that the fire didn’t affect you at all. In fact you were perfectly fine despite the flames roaring around your bed. Your clothes had been partially burned but not your skin. Your skin had remained untouched. 

You thought it too weird. How many dreams had you had that involved fire? Never in those dreams had you felt danger from fire. It was instead comforting and soothed your soul, reassuring you that you weren’t alone. 

Never telling him of your dreams you had jokingly told him that he was crazy and left it at that.  
  


After your training, you and Jaime return the room you had been staying in for the past couple of nights. It was in a crowded, run down inn, as expected in the lower parts of Myr. Those kinds of places were all that you could afford. They were nothing compared to your home in Casterly Rock or even in King’s Landing. You would make do with what you could afford though. Even though it had been a while ago, Jaime still worried that you were weak from the poison you had ingested last year. He never liked pushing you too hard in your travels. Getting to Volantis quickly wasn’t his first priority; his first priority was your well being and safety. So Jaime would sell his swordsmanship to people who needed it or place bets on who would win in a fight. And of course Jaime always bet on himself and at a high price. You had asked him once what if he were to lose? How would he pay his part of the bet? Jaime would always ruffle your hair at that and with such utter confidence he claimed that he would never lose. 

You washed up first while Jaime went out again to earn some more money. Despite being away from home you observed that both of you were rather happy with your new arrangements. There was absolutely no pressure from anyone. No one made you be who you didn’t want to be. Both of you were free to do what you wanted with your life. 

The bath water was already becoming diluted with the dirt that had clung onto you. You didn’t care. You sigh and lean yourself against the tub, looking at your small hands. They had roughened and taken on calluses. Blistering and stinging, you never complained when you had first developed them while beginning your sword practice. You took immense pride in them. You had changed so much from the mouse you once were. 

Noises from outside actually lulled and relaxed you. There were many times when your mind would become chaotic, loud and full of questions. Why did Thalina want you to go to Volantis? The outside noises helped to drown them out. You had learned to love Essos. It was crazy and wild, so unlike Westeros and you loved it. In Westeros there was so much pressure in being perfect and acting according to your station. Many times you felt like you were suffocating, drowning in your pearls and jewels. 

The only other time you had felt such freedom was when you were with Rhaegar. He never made you feel like you had to try and be someone else. Never shamed you if you didn’t act like a regal lady and encouraged you to just be yourself. 

A stab in your chest has you viciously shaking your head to rid yourself of thinking about him. Thoughts have him came every so often even though you desperately tried not to think about him. You lean forward, clamping your hands on either side of your skull. 

Did he think about you? Was he worried about you? 

“No, stop that (y/n). There’s no going back. At least. . . not now.” Jaime hadn’t specified whether or not you would be able to return to Westeros. He hadn’t even said why you needed to go to Volantis. Why not just pick a city in Essos and stay there? Maybe Jaime would want to return to Cersei eventually. You would catch him looking off into the distance with lonely eyes. He had left someone behind too. Even if you did think she was vile, Jaime loved her. Had always loved her since they were children. That and the twin thing that made them connected in a way you would never understand. 

“Rhaegar. . .” You whisper, the sound of your wounded voice was crisp in the bathing room. You prayed he was doing okay and that he was safe.  
*  


The campaign wasn’t going quite as Rhaegar had imagined. Times like this he missed (y/n). Especially at night when he was too stressed to sleep. He missed waking up next to her, feeling her warmth fill his bed as she had sweet dreams. 

Every so often he would feel a deep aching pain in his chest where he thought he would lose himself. 

He couldn’t though. He was so close. So close to winning and securing Westeros. But he was tired. Extremely exhausted. 

Years ago he had felt such exhaustion while visiting Dragonstone. A young (y/n) would’ve known just the thing to make him laugh and forget about all his worries. His sweet little mouse that loved him so much. 

His sweet mouse that burned alive. 

His hand clamps down over his mouth as he stifles his cry. He hated thinking about how (y/n) must have died and that he wasn’t there. That was another reason he found it hard to sleep. Nightmares plagued him, endless and constant. 

“Your Grace.” 

Rhaegar lifts his weary eyes up at an armored Griff. He looked uncertainly at his Silver Prince, knowing from the shadows under his lilac eyes that he was still unable to sleep. “They are ready for you. Aerys’ army awaits on the outskirts of Summerhall. Your troops wait for your command.” 

It was then that Rhaegar noticed that his camp had grown deathly quiet. The calm before the storm. 

He reaches for his helmet, black as the night with red scales. Red as the blood that would soon be spilt on the battlefield, an ugly red hue that tainted everything it touched. Rhaegar would’ve likened this war to the dance of dragons. But Aerys was no dragon. Maybe decades ago he might have been, but certainly not now. Not even Rhaegar would consider himself a dragon. There were no more Targaryen dragons. Their dynasty had been tarnished too much to think of themselves as so grand. 

Staring at it for a moment, Rhaegar contemplates his life leading up to that moment. This isn’t what he would have chosen for himself. He never wanted the life of a king let alone a warrior. Many times when he slept next to (y/n) he would imagine a different life for them. A simple life where he’d be able to live peacefully with her, no concern of warm or political corruption. Only him and (y/n) and their baby. Both were now dead though and what he wanted wasn’t what was best for the kingdom. It wouldn’t be saved by him playing the harp. He had to take up a sword. The Long Night was coming. Maybe not soon, but one day darkness would cover all of Westeros and threaten to swallow it up. When that time came it would need a competent leader which was not his father. 

He had to do what was right for Westeros. Even though the two most important people in his world were dead. 

Rhaegar covers his wealth of silver hair with his helmet, prepared to shed blood for the good of the realm. Prepared to take down his own father. “Lets go.”


	2. Part 2

Moments like this, Jaime just wanted to gather (y/n) in his arms and hold her tightly to his chest as she slept so deeply. 

During their travels they found it easier to sleep next to each other. When they had to bunker down for the night, especially when they were out in the open, it was safer for (y/n) to be curled up right against him. Which led to plenty of temptations to tantalize Jaime’s mind. 

(y/n) was facing him as she slept. Her skin having taken a darker hue from exposure to the sun which then dusted freckles on her nose and cheeks. She looked so much better than she had when they had left Westeros. Weak and withering away, having to lean on Jaime for support, now (y/n) was stronger. Her face had filled back up as she grew out of her sickness from the poison. Once Jaime saw she was indeed getting better he knew he had to teach her to protect herself. As much as Jaime wanted to be the one to protect her, he knew that that wasn’t practical. He couldn’t always be by her side. In an unfamiliar place like Essos, it was a good thing for (y/n) to know how to fight. Not liking the idea very much, it had to be done. Loud voices from the other tenants at the inn made (y/n) stir in her sleep, her heart shaped lips puckering and her eyebrows furrowing. Jaime grins and runs his finger along her cheek. Her face relaxes as she goes back to sleep. They had to leave soon. How could he wake her up though? 

In some ways, Jaime was grateful for all that had happened to lead the both of them to where they were now. All these months Jaime got to know, really know, (y/n). Under Rhaegar’s affections and love, (y/n) had flourished. She really wasn’t a mouse anymore. She was incredibly witty, able to banter Jaime fiercely. Smart and calculating and wary, oh so wary. She really had grown up into a remarkable young lady. It wouldn’t be fair to compare his sisters, yet from time to time Jaime would do so. Compare how (y/n) was quick to laugh and smile while Cersei hardly laughed at all. (y/n)’s humor was a smart kind, Cersei’s was condescending. Like night and day. 

Cersei. . . 

Jaime rolls onto his back to stare up at the ceiling. The floorboards creaked from the residents up above, a few dust particles slowly fluttering down with each loud creak of the wood. 

He missed her. Flaws and all he missed Cersei. It was hard not to. After all they had been through together, Jaime couldn’t just forget about her. When he was alone with his thoughts he wondered what she was doing, if she was okay. 

Tywin probably married her off by now. To Oberyn Martell possibly if what he had planned actually played out. The thought of the Dornish prince touching his twin made the insides of his stomach rot. She had been despicable in her treatment of (y/n) and Tyrion, but he still loved her greatly. 

Jaime ran a hand over his face. It didn’t do well to think of things that he had no control over. He was thousands of miles away in Essos. Not that he regretted taking (y/n) to another land for her safety. He would do it again and again if it meant keeping her safe. Failing to keep her safe in their childhood, Jaime refused to let that happen again. (y/n) still held the scars from when she needed him most. He couldn’t let her down again. That was why he was all too willing to help her escape. It was only the event of the fire that had Thalina’s words ringing true in Jaime’s head. She wasn’t safe. For whatever reason (y/n) just seemed to attract danger in Westeros. More than anything, Jaime traveled to Essos for answers as to why Thalina was so fervent that his sister be taken to Volantis. Thalina had claimed she was important, but Jaime already knew that. (y/n) was important to him not because she was his sister or even because she would be the future queen of the seven kingdoms. She was important to him because of the deep well of love that he held for her. But why was she important to the Red Temple of Volantis? From passing through many of the eastern cities, there were plenty of Red Temples for them to stop at. 

What was it about the foreign city of Volantis?  
  
*  


_Never in your life had you lived so far away from Casterly Rock. Even though the people there were cold and manipulating it was still your home. Memories of your mother were filled in every corner; moments of when your Uncle Kevan would put you up on his shoulders, him commenting quite often that you were like a little doll. _

_When Rhaegar issued you as his bride-to-be, it was decided that you would be moved to the fortress of Dragonstone. The ancient home of the Targaryens, the seat from which Aegon and his sisters hailed from. You were terrified in the beginning, especially being escorted from the ship and up the long way to the castle that appeared carved out of stone itself. Chiseled by the hand of a giant perhaps. Not a friend in the world you cried the first few nights. Dragonstone was much more colder than Casterly Rock and lacked the physical warmth of your old home. Rhaegar had spent the first couple of days with you to try and help you adjust to your new surroundings. During the day it was an adventure as he held your hand and showed you around the home of his ancestors. You especially loved the Chamber of the Painted Table. In the center was a massive table that possessed a carved and painted map of all of Westeros. You couldn’t believe that someone had painstakingly made a detailed map of all of the Seven Kingdoms. Rhaegar had even lifted you up so that you could get a better look at the inland cities. _

_Night time was different though. Rhaegar would retire and you would be left utterly alone in your stone room that you would live in for the next couple of years. After four days spent there, Rhaegar informed you with regret that he had to return to King’s Landing. _

_What would you do without your only friend? Lessons from the septas and maesters thankfully filled your days and kept you occupied. _

_One month in and you were visited by Queen Rhaella herself, alongside her was a bright eyed and smiling maid. _

_“My son is concerned that you might be lonely here.” Rhaella smiles and introduces your new handmaid. _

_Thalina. _

_She leans down a little bit to better make eye contact with you. Thalina was a lovely young lady with fair skin and eyes that almost shimmered gold. Light brown hair was swept out of her face and pulled into a long braid. “Hello little princess. I made something for you.” _

_In her hands was a cloth bundle. She pulled back one corner of the canvas cloth to reveal three dragons carved from wood. One of them stood out from the others; it was larger and painted black. _

_You smiled with glee realizing who it was. “Balerion!” _

_“Very good!” Thalina chirped happily and picked up a cream colored dragon. “And this one?” _

_“Meraxes.” You had loved stories of dragons. They were such amazing creatures. _

_It was such a shame that dragons had been extinct for decades._  
*  


Your stay in Myr was up, you and Jaime having stayed long enough the two of you had to be on your way. Moving from city to city had become easier for you after you and Jaime had arrived in Essos. There was no real home for you anymore. Not until you made it to Volantis like Thalina had instructed. Never before had you seen so much of the world. At least in that regard you were thankful to whoever had tried to kill you. In almost a year you and Jaime had traveled from Braavos along the coast to where you now were. A year of sight seeing and being introduced to all the strange languages that couldn’t be heard in Westeros. You had stared up at the titan that stood watch in front of Braavos, crossed the vast ancient hill of the Andals, to the beautiful city of Pentos where you saw men with blue beards and bazaars that put any market in Westeros to shame. The experience was made more fun with Jaime by your side. In all of your life, you had never spent that much time with your older brother. His time had been monopolized by Cersei and his fervent desire to be a knight. 

Being nearly killed was practically the best thing that had happened to you. 

Almost. . . 

As you help Jaime load up your horse, you can’t help the image of your dragon prince popping into your head and remembering that you used to carry his child in your belly. The horse flicks its tail in your face bringing you back to your new reality. You sigh and pat it gently on its flank. 

Jaime is tightening the leather straps, making sure the bags on the horse’s back wouldn’t slip or fall. Noticing the bare flesh on his bicep bulge as he did so. You had thought he was a man grown when you left Westeros, what did that make him now? A god among men? He still kept his face shaven though which revealed how young he was despite the skill he possessed with a blade. Jaime had fought sellswords and pirates, honing that skill and making it far better than it was before. 

This journey had been good for the both of you. 

The weather was agreeable that day to where you didn’t have to bother with a headscarf and shawl to protect you from the sun. From one of the bags you grab a rolled up piece of parchment. Unfurling it revealed a map of Essos. 

“So from here we just make a trip down to the Orange Shore.” Your finger trails down the map, along the lines where rivers intersected. That’s the area you wanted to avoid. “Out of the way of The Sorrows.” 

“Not unless you want to join the stone men.” Jaime comments with one last tug to the leather straps. Satisfied, he walks around to where you stood examining the map. “From what the tavern dwellers and merchants have told me, they say there’s a curse upon that land.” 

“Do you believe it?” 

With a confident smile, Jaime shakes his head. “No. The only curse that resides there is within the poor souls inflicted with greyscale.” An index finger moves alongside your own, his traveling to a small place near the end of the Rhyone river called Volon Therys. “We’ll rest here before finding a boat that can take us the rest of the way to Volantis.” 

Grinning at the progress you had made, you roll the map back up. “We’re getting closer!” 

He nods and takes hold of the horse’s reins. “Closer to some answers.” 

That was Jaime’s main drive through all of this. Answers as to how Thalina could have been so correct about your own doom. You knew your brother didn’t much believe in superstitious things or even those along the lines of supernatural. This puzzled him to no end. The humor in it was not lost to you. It was hilarious how serious Jaime was. Then again the circumstances were serious. He was still rattled over the two attempts on your life. Concerned as well, you weren’t as hung up on what had happened in the past. You were free. Freer than you had ever been. True that there were a lot more rougher groups in Essos, you had a good teacher in handling with the likes of them. Not once were you fearful as to what would happen to you. 

It was unnerving though, walking through the crowd of Myr and seeing people with chains around their necks. Some even had tattoos on their faces to distinguish their ranks. This wasn’t a free city. Many were enslaved. 

Many times you caught the gaze of men, their eyes sizing up your golden Lannister hair. They could sell you for a good price. Those kinds of gazes made a shiver run up your spine. 

“You sure I shouldn’t dye my hair before we leave?” You say self-consciously. 

“We’ve gone this far without doing that. Besides, your hair is too beautiful to dye.” Jaime glances at you with a smile, his shoulders bumping against several other passersby who were in a hurry. 

Suddenly Jaime’s expression drops, green eyes harden as he seems to quicken his pace; the horse alongside makes you pick up speed. Once you’re at his side, cheeks red, Jaime grabs your hand and lowers his voice. “There’s someone following us.” 

You wanted to look back but you knew better than to do that. Keeping your mind at ease was the only way to quiet your rapidly beating heart. “What do we do?” 

The line of his jaw is clenched as his eyes dart here and there. With a crowd like this and noise to cover your conversation it would be easy to find a way out. “You see that stall selling dried peppers?” 

“Yes.” 

“Looks like you can turn into a side street. Head over there.” 

“By myself?” You glance at him incredulously. 

Reassurance is warm in his gaze. “Trust me.” 

And you did. You trusted Jaime with your life. 

With a quick nod, you fast walk over to where Jaime had told you, the dry peppers from the stall next door made your nose tingle. 

Indeed the turn led into an alley with a dead end. Above you were open windows leading into someone’s home. There was no way for you to escape unless you grew wings to fly away. 

Your ears pick up the sound of boots enter the alley. Swiftly you turn around, hand at the pommel of your sword. You would finally be able to test your skills. It was one thing to train, another when an actual threat came along. 

The figure already had his blade out, garbed in armor as if he was a soldier. Face hard and pockmarked, there was no emotion as he looked at you. 

No words were exchanged as he charged at you. Pure instinct drilled into you by Jaime, you drew your sword. 

Suddenly a blade through his neck has the man stopping, blood rushing out of his mouth. His voice is gurgled as he lurches forward, sliding off of Jaime’s sword and face first into the ground. Jaime glares at the man as he puts his sword away, blood still staining the steel blade. 

“You okay?” Jaime asks you as he kneels down next to the body and started to search the corpse. 

“I-I’m fine but what are you doing?” It was all exhaled out in a long breath. Adrenaline was still kicking in your system. 

“Just want to know who this fella was.” He easily answers you. His hand pulls out a small coin purse. “Well this shouldn’t go to waste.” 

“You’re robbing him?!” 

“He just tried to kill you (y/n).” The fact of the matter that he had just killed someone didn’t phase your brother at all. “Come on, lets get out of this city.” 

You stared at your would-be killer as you pass him.  
  
  


“You’ve been quiet since we left Myr.” Your brother points out as you both made camp for the night. 

Not exactly true, you had spoken a few words to Jaime here and there when needed. Other than that you didn’t find a need to talk. Being honest with yourself though, you were still traumatized having witnessed Jaime kill that man right in front of you. That moment reminded you that Jaime was a trained killer. It still didn’t change the fact though that you had seen someone die before your eyes. 

He lets out a quiet sigh and sits down on the ground, head tilted up to admire the vast blanket of stars. “If I hadn’t done it, you would’ve had to. And you’re not ready to have someone’s blood on your hands.” 

You look down at your own hands, small and callused; but they weren’t the hands of someone capable of killing. Even if it was to save your own life. “I know. I’m sorry. It was just really shocking to me. . . I’ve never seen someone die like that.” 

Jaime nods. “Yeah, probably could’ve done that in a smoother way but I was angry. That guy had targeted you. Whether to kill you, rob you, or kidnap you to sell you into slavery doesn’t matter to me. Anyone who looks at my sister the wrong way has to deal with me.” 

He was your savior yet again. Your knight without armor. “Thank you Jaime. I know in the end you’re just looking out for me.” You offer him a smile to let him know that you understood why he did the things he did.  
*  


He couldn’t tell her the truth. She was too sweet for that and it would scare her to death. 

Absentmindedly, Jaime pats the coin purse he had taken from the assassin. He wasn’t the first one Jaime had sniffed out and most likely wouldn’t be the last. All together since their arrival in Braavos there had been a total of four assassins. Each one dispatched by Jaime. The first time Jaime thought it was just some cut throat, probably thinking that (y/n) was a wealthy traveler. Jaime made quick work of that one and his sister was none the wiser that she had almost been attacked. The second time around, Jaime knew it wasn’t random thugs. These were sent assassins. From the money that was in their pockets he was paid by someone in Westeros. He hadn’t pieced together who though despite there being an obvious candidate for it. King Aerys was the most likely culprit. Deep down though, there came another answer that Jaime didn’t even want to think about. 

Cersei. 

She may have been young, but she was brutal when people slighted her. Utterly cruel to even her playmates when she was young. And Cersei, Jaime was certain, wanted (y/n) to be gone. That had always been clear since the day she was born. Now Cersei had more of a reason to want (y/n) dead. She knew of Jaime’s affections for their younger sister, an affection that was ready to bloom into desire. Cersei was never one to lose. Jaime was the last thing she would ever relinquish to anyone. She had lost Rhaegar to (y/n) and now her twin. That voice inside of him was screaming that it was Cersei. He knew her better than anyone else. Knew what she was really capable of. That was what made Jaime fearful. He didn’t want (y/n) to share in his fear. She was so happy just to be traveling the world with him. Carefree and so curious, he wanted her to keep that and not be fearful of every corner. Jaime had already caused her enough fear in her young life. He wanted his little sister to stay starry-eyed and oblivious to the people that wanted her dead. 

That was the least he could do for her. One thing that nagged him though was how Cersei knew (y/n) was still alive. From the ashes of (y/n)'s old room, many must have assumed rightfully that she had perished along with Thalina. Everyone in Westeros would expect her to be dead. So how would Cersei know differently? 

“What do you think the Red Temple is like?” (y/n) wonders out loud as she relaxes on the ground. “We should have visited the one in Myr.” 

(y/n) didn’t seem as curious as Jaime was as to why Thalina wanted his sister delivered to the Red Temple of Volantis. “(y/n), what do you know of the religion they practice?” 

She grows quiet and contemplative. “Thalina told me of Azor Ahai, their prophet. He works for the Lord of Light to defend the realm from the calamity that they call the Long Night." 

Jaime can’t contain his scoff. “That sounds like the kind of story our nurse maid would have told us.” 

His sister didn’t seem so convinced that it was just a story. In her make-shift cot, (y/n) sits up. Eyes pensive, her tongue brushing along her bottom lip. “What if it isn’t though? Thousands of people believe that one day Azor Ahai will come back and stop the Long Night.” She blushes from embarrassment when she realized what she had said in the heat of the moment. “Er. . . sorry. Guess that was silly of me. It’s just. . . there’s been so many coincidences that revolve around this. Things I just can’t place as a coincidence anymore.” Her voice grows distant, Jaime unable to read her thoughts as she gazes out to the vast land. 

No, Jaime had to agree that it wasn’t a coincidence either. There was something in this strange land that was calling for (y/n). (y/n) was meant to be here. 

“No. I don’t think that’s silly at all. Maybe because I don’t have much faith in any kind of religion. Not even in the Seven.” He admits quietly. During his lessons with the septons he had easily gotten bored, zoning out and wishing he could be outside practicing his swordplay. How would the gods help with that? They were of no use to Jaime. “But I don’t think it’s silly. So don’t apologize.” 

There was such joy in her face. 

Jaime was certain that he’d be willing to die for that face.


	3. Part 3

“You should be rejoicing friend!” Oberyn Martell pushes aside the flap of Rhaegar’s tent as he followed the Silver Prince inside. Many knew that Rhaegar was already in a brooding mood, but Oberyn didn’t seem at all bothered as he persisted. Even on the trek back to camp, Oberyn had tried to pull Rhaegar out of his mood since victory still rang in his blood. The other lords knew better though. 

Rhaegar could still smell blood on the field that was miles away. A field he had left strewn with corpses. “It’s hard for me to rejoice when there is so much blood on the ground.” He had never liked hurting anyone. Even when practicing wielding a sword at a young age, Rhaegar had always been reluctant to strike at his instructor. Never relishing in spilling another man’s blood, that had never been him. 

“That’s the cost of any war.” The Dornish prince shrugs while rooting through Rhaegar’s wooden wine cabinet. His nose scrunches up. “This is all you brought? It might as well be swill from your Blackwater Bay. None of these can compare to our Dornish wine.” 

Rhaegar takes off his helmet and hands it to the young squire who had been quietly attending him. The young boy stood starstruck as he was in the presence of two men of royalty and strength. Rhaegar knew what was going through the boy’s mind, he wanted to be just like them out in the battlefield. Oh how young boys are so ignorant of the truth of war and battle. He was a cousin of one of the Dornish houses, sent especially to be Rhaegar’s squire in this war as House Dalt wanted to show the prince that they were right by his side, just like the other Dornish houses. Great and small they clamored to win Rhaegar’s favor considering that he had agreed to wed their beloved Elia. Finally after centuries of strife, houses Targaryen and Martell were finally combining their forces and making a truly strong alliance. Something that even Aegon the Conqueror failed to do. 

Breathing still haggard as the battle of that day was running through his head, Rhaegar allows young Bors Dalt to remove his armor. 

He had killed men that had once sworn themselves to him and the Targaryen family. Men that he would’ve once considered comrades now were on the opposing side. The fault was not on them that they fought for Aerys. What else were they supposed to do? Aerys was still king. He still ruled the people with fear. 

It would be wrong to call it a battle though. The troop that Aerys had sent out had been a small one; clearly the Mad King didn’t think his son capable of gaining himself a sizeable army. 

Aerys’ troops were massacred on the field of Summerhall mainly by the soldiers of Robert Baratheon’s troops. All of his men met Aerys’ army head on without a moment to waste once Robert learned that the king’s army were in the territory of the stormlands. Robert had called his bannermen to fight them off, promising Rhaegar that he would make quick waste of them. He wanted the glory in advancing Rhaegar’s army. As much as he appreciated Robert’s enthusiasm, Rhaegar insisted that he fight as well. 

Immediately on the field, Rhaegar knew that his father’s men didn’t stand a chance. It could have been over without bloodshed had Rhaegar insisted on speaking to them first. Many of his men though told him that it would be useless. That Aerys held too much control over those men. They probably feared Aerys more than they feared Rhaegar; even faced with thousands of Baratheon bannermen. 

Sensing the Westerosi Prince’s anguish, Oberyn sighs and puts down his drink to pat Rhaegar on the back. “It’s part of war. Death and blood. You can’t wish to claim the throne without it. Just remember though, you’ll be sparing the lives of thousands by uncrowning your father. Many others will realize it too and join your side. The more battles we win, the more the people of Westeros will see that Aerys can never beat you.” 

In his heart, Rhaegar couldn’t convince himself that it was all going to be worth it. Nothing was worth anything anymore since (y/n) had died. He was going through the motions but didn’t have the fire in him like he once did. The Long Night could consume all of the Seven Kingdoms for all he cared about. 

Outside he could hear the booming laughter of Robert Baratheon and his men. Oberyn motions his head toward the merriment. “Why not get drunk and be grateful like them? We’ve won our first battle.” 

Robert had everything to be happy about. He was wed to Lyanna a few months back. And now he had this victory on his belt as well. “Maybe later. I want to rest for now.” 

Defeated, Oberyn shrugs and gathers young Bors by the shoulders. “Come now. You and I will drink instead.” 

The young squire smiles nervously but is all too ready to leave with Oberyn. That is until they bump into a messenger who is blocking their way out. 

“To who do we owe the honor to?” Oberyn takes the rolled up letter that the messenger had handed to him. 

“Lord Tywin Lannister of Casterly Rock. He wishes to speak with you and Prince Rhaegar.” 

Rhaegar flashed the messenger with slitted lavender eyes. “What does he want.” What could that man possibly want to speak to Rhaegar about. Tywin had been all too willing to help Rhaegar in his endeavors to win the Iron Throne, but when (y/n) died Rhaegar didn’t want to speak to the Lord of Casterly Rock anymore. Thinking of how he neglected his kind daughter and continued to ignore her existence even after they were married. 

“Be at ease, Rhaegar.” Oberyn glances over the words on the parchment. “I had to do something since you no longer wished to negotiate with your former father-in-law.” 

He cringes at that. “For a good reason.” 

“Allies are allies. And we need as many as possible. No better than the lord that shits gold himself.” 

“And what is he asking in return for our allegiance?” 

“I am to marry his daughter Cersei.” 

That actually made Rhaegar laugh until he caught the expression on Oberyn’s face. “You can’t be serious.” 

He shrugs, unconcerned. “It’s a small price to pay. Plus I hear she is very beautiful. Not by Dornish standards of course. Beauty is beauty though. And I’m sure seeing his daughter as a princess won’t be a bad thing either.” 

“He already had a daughter who was a princess.” Gritting his teeth and clenching his jaw, Rhaegar took the parchment and tore it in half. “An even more beautiful and kind daughter. She was my princess and would have been my queen too.” 

“I’m sorry you don’t think I’m as kind as my sister.” 

Everyone turned at the voice of Cersei Lannister. She stood there, regal and lovely despite there being slight shadows under her eyes. Another year passed had done the Lannister beauty wonders in making her features even more captivating. Cersei had already been a lovely maid last Rhaegar had seen of her, now she could possibly make any man bow down to her. Except for Rhaegar. Had (y/n) been given the chance to live she would have been just as beautiful. 

Oberyn’s dark eyes widened at the vision presented in front of him. “Lady Cersei, what do we owe the honor to? Surely the battle camp isn’t a place a lady as fine as yourself frequents at.” 

Vivacious green eyes stare down Rhaegar as she addresses Oberyn. “My father felt that our Targaryen Prince would have some. . . issues with our arrangement. My sister must have painted us in such an evil light. I am here to ensure Your Grace that you have the support of House Lannister. Nothing else. As long as Prince Oberyn keeps to his words that he will wed me in due time.” 

There was much doubt in his heart about the Lannister’s sincerity. “It’s hard to believe that the Lord of Casterly Rock would merely accept a marriage proposal for an alliance.” 

“As you know he also has no love for your father. He would do just about anything to spite him. And since the death of my sister, well, he feels that Aerys should be thrown off the Iron Throne.” The way she spoke to him reminded Rhaegar that she was in every way Tywin Lannister’s daughter. Cersei was smart with her words and eloquent in the delivery. 

Eyes darting to both Cersei and Rhaegar, Oberyn frowns. “You hold so much hostility for one so beautiful, Rhaegar. She means no harm and the alliance with the Lannisters will help us greatly when the time comes to storm King’s Landing. He can get the other western lords to join us. Plus she is your family.” 

That made Rhaegar snap like any furious dragon. “She’s not my family. (y/n) was my family. Cersei treated her like a pest that needed to be exterminated.” 

“Rhaegar,” Oberyn lowers his voice so that it was more directed to him “we need their help. Whatever discrepancies you have with the Lannisters died with (y/n). Let us start a new. Think of what your men are fighting for, to put you on the Iron Throne. Do not forsake them for your malice.” 

Staring at Cersei, Rhaegar hated to admit that Oberyn spoke the truth. A heavy sigh passes his lips as he hangs his head in resignation. “Very well. How many troops does your father have?” 

“Many. Far more than the Lord of Storm’s End.” She briefly looks at the Lannister messenger. “Send word to my father. Prince Rhaegar has agreed to our assistance.” 

The messenger nods and hurries off. 

“Good. Now that that’s settled I believe we all deserve a drink.” Cheerily, he grabs Bors once more and holds out an arm to Cersei. 

She declines with a polite smile. “I would like to stay and speak to Rhaegar for a moment longer.” 

“As you wish, my lady.” 

Once they leave, all polite facade melts from her. “I could have been your queen, you know.” 

“Yes. I’m well aware of that. In the end I still believe I made the right choice.” Rhaegar pours himself a drink, not bothering to offer Cersei. “Did you even feel any sorrow when (y/n) died?” 

There’s a little scoff from Cersei as she serves herself. “You know very well there was no sorrow in me for her. My sorrow was saved for my brother Jaime. The very night she died, Jaime disappeared. No trace of him left on this world.” 

“Of course. You and your brother.” Rhaegar catches the flap of his tent, wondering if Oberyn was out of earshot. “You’re really set then on marrying Oberyn.” 

She nods. “At least he’ll make me a princess, possibly a queen.” 

“What makes you think queen? What are you and your father scheming.” 

“The fate that should have been rightfully mine but you looked me over for that. . . that mouse!” 

Inside of Rhaegar the dragon was stirring, opening it’s amber eyes and smoke streaming from it’s nostrils. “Watch your mouth. I will have no ill words spoken of her. She was a far better woman than you’ll ever be.” 

Cersei rolls her eyes. “Yes, yes. You’ve said it all before. Don’t forget though, at one point you didn’t think she was the best woman. You wanted Lyanna Stark.” 

“That was a long time ago.” 

“Not long enough for it to not hurt her. You wounded her greatly. Don’t forget that. You try to shine your love onto her now that she’s gone. Where was it when she needed it most? (y/n) probably died still thinking that your heart belonged to Lyanna.” 

It was worse than a slap to the face. Cersei knew this well as she grinned triumphantly. “You had your chance. Now I’m taking my fate into my own hands.”  
*  
  
  


Back in her own tent that had been promptly set up, Cersei reclines into a chair weary and thirsty. Her tired eyes drift to the mirror that had been set up for her. She wouldn’t be staying long but she would be damned if she didn’t have any of her amenities. In the reflection she saw the dark rim of her eyes and the paleness of her face. Since Jaime left, Cersei hadn’t gotten a good night's sleep in a year. 

She was certain now that (y/n) was alive despite everyone claiming her to be dead. There was no body, none except for the maid Thalina who had gotten in her way. Many had just assumed that (y/n)’s body had been completely consumed by the flames, leaving nothing but an outline on her charred bed. 

(y/n) was alive and most likely with Jaime. 

Cersei’s jaw ticks at the thought of them together somewhere. Jaime had betrayed her. In more than one way. 

“I’m taking my fate into my own hands.” She whispered to herself. Cruelness and venom laced her words as memories of Cersei standing in (y/n)’s room came flooding back. Standing over her younger sister as she slept, unaware that Thalina lay dying on the floor. The candle in Cersei’s hand inching closer and closer to her until it touched the barest thread of her blanket and engulfed the entire thing. After the poison had failed to overcome (y/n), instead all the poison did was merely take the life of her whelp, Cersei had to do something. 

Oh how she had felt triumphant at the moment while she watched that small flame grow, engulfing her sister and becoming ever larger. Now she regretted not slitting her throat. She should have made sure she was dead. Cersei had been too cocky and confident though. 

When she found (y/n), she wouldn’t fail. Any assassin and mercenary she had hired were given strict instructions to deliver the head of (y/n) to Cersei. Every one she had sent never did seem to return though. Cersei could only come to the conclusion that Jaime had caught on to her scheme and was defending their sister. He always did know Cersei better than anyone else. Surely he would’ve known that it was Cersei who had tried to kill (y/n) not once but twice. Now he was protecting (y/n) from all the sellswords that Cersei had enlisted. The young knight could only fight off so many. Eventually she would find her. It was only a matter of time. Jaime and (y/n) could only go so far.


	4. Part 3.5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A special holiday chapter for everyone :) have a safe and happy new year guys!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to clarify, I did some research after writing this little "Christmas" special and found out that Aerys and Rhaella weren't king and queen at the time when Tywin and Joanna were married. Whoops oh well. Slight inaccuracy but this is fanfiction ^^'

She had always considered Rhaella her dear friend, even if she had been the queen’s lady-in-waiting, Joanna and Rhaella had been close. Close like sisters. When Rhaella was angered, so was Joanna. When the king had gone too far and hurt his already fragile queen, Joanna was wounded as well to see Rhaella in such a state. 

So to be let go of being one of her personal ladies, Joanna was quite shocked. She had just told Rhaella of her engagement to her cousin Tywin, a man whom she had truly fallen in love with. Cold and hard to laugh Tywin. His actions spoke more than any of his words could. Joanna knew that Tywin reciprocated these feelings of adoration, he would speak softly of his love for her and it made her heart soar even more. 

Rhaella should have been happy for the young, blushing, bride. Selna Dayne was surely excited for her companion. Her glittering violet eyes showed her genuine joy for Joanna. 

The thin Queen of Westeros, however, appeared somewhat apprehensive at this news and gently told Joanna that she was letting her go as a lady-in-waiting. 

“I. . . I don’t understand.” She looks to Selna for guidance, that this must be a mistake, but the Dornish beauty was equally confused. “Have I done something to displease you, Your Grace?” 

“Of course not.” Rhaella holds Joanna’s hand reassuringly. Her face was so thin from her previous miscarriage that it stretched over her features painfully. Watery lavender eyes glance at the four year old Rhaegar who was playing with wooden figures on the floor. Joanna and Selna dotted on the young boy as he was breathtakingly beautiful and a joy to be around. “I just think it would be best if you were no longer in my service.” 

“Forgive me, but you have to give her a reason.” Selna insists. Both of the young girls watched Rhaella like a hawk, eyes trying to delve deeper into her. 

How could she say it out loud? To say it out loud would ruin sweet Joanna. A truth that was known to Tywin already. He had not said anything to his fiancee for a reason. But here they were, girls insisting upon an answer. They would accept nothing less. 

Pursing her lips, Rhaella drops Joanna’s hand. “I fear for you if you were to stay here.” 

Pale blonde brows furrow. 

The thought of Aerys using the girl as he did her. . . That beautiful milky skin of her’s being tarnished by bruises and cuts was too much for Rhaella to even think about. She had to do what was best for Joanna. There had already been rumors of Aerys taken the maidenhead of Joanna during Jaehaerys’ coronation. That was bad enough. What if Aerys had it in his mind to go through with the rumor before Joanna was to marry Tywin? It scared Rhaella. She wanted Tywin to take her far away from King’s Landing. 

“Aerys desires you in his bed. He’s wanted you for quite some time. I think. . . I think that the news of you wedding Tywin would be enough to make him go through with the deed. They haven’t gotten along for quite some time now.” Finally breaking, she told the girls of the secret she had tried to protect them from. 

Selna’s face grew pale at the thought of Aerys, that wicked man, having his way with Joanna. Joanna did her best to conceal her trembling. Both had seen what going to bed with Aerys would do to a woman. The evidence was all over Rhaella. 

It pained Joanna to leave her lady, but everyone in that room knew it for the best. With Aerys being the way that he was, Joanna wasn’t safe in King’s Landing. 

So fragile Joanna looked at that moment, fragile and scared making Rhaella regret her decision for a moment before the blonde closes her eyes and nods. 

“Very well. I will leave King’s Landing immediately.” Concern flickered in her green eyes when she gazes at Selna. Dark haired Selna with large eyes like gemstones. How on earth she possessed such beautiful lavender eyes without being related to a Targaryen, no one would know. The light contrast of her eyes to her tanned skin made her so much more alluring. 

Her concern was easily read by Rhaella who had been concerned about the Dornish lady as well. 

Selna suddenly grew rigid. Surely Aerys wouldn’t dare touch her for risk of disrupting his alliance with Dorne. The House of Dayne was a loyal and favorite house of the Martells who ruled the desert land. With their family sword Dawn, many members had brought fame in battle. 

“She will be fine. Aerys has no interest in women who have already had children.” Rhaella assured her. Selna released a sigh of relief, thanking the gods for her three children. Reassured, Joanna finally manages to smile. She could leave without any regrets. 

Standing up, she bows to her queen. “My lady, it has been the utmost honor to serve you.” 

“It was my honor to have you in my service. Now go and live a happy life.”   
  
*   


Rhaella had wept rivers when the news of Joanna’s death reached her. One of Rhaella’s biggest regrets was not keeping in touch with her. She wanted Joanna to continue on with her happy life and forget about court. Intending for Joanna to never come back to King’s Landing, Rhaella had made herself distant. With Aerys descending into madness, there was no predicting what he would do to her. All to protect Joanna and her happiness. 

She felt that sorrow again when she first met (y/n) Lannister, a sweet enough looking child who lacked her mother’s beauty. The smile is what brought the image of Joanna to Rhaella. A smile that warmed Rhaella to the bone. 

“It’s my honor to meet you, Your Grace.” The little girl was quiet in the way she spoke, bending slightly in the knees for a curtsy. This was Rhaegar’s future wife. 

“You look just like your mother.” 

(y/n) stumbles forward a little bit, gawking at the queen. Her pale green eyes are wide in disbelief before a shy blush makes her gaze shoot down to the ground. “Oh. . . People say that about my sister. Not. . . me. . .” 

Rhaella smiles at the shy girl. The poor girl must have never been complimented before. From what Rhaegar had told her about (y/n), she wasn’t the favorite among the Lannister siblings. Said that many favored Cersei more due to the fact that she had Joanna’s loveliness and grace. Many were quick to forget that Joanna’s pretty face wasn’t what made Joanna a dear to be around. Her smile and laugh was what truly mader her soul shine. 

“Trust me young one, I knew your mother very well. You look so much like her when you smile.” She winks at her, making (y/n)’s smile return. In truth, Rhaella had been worried when Rhaegar gave her the news that he had chosen a bride. And his bride was still but a child. That’s why she would live on Dragonstone until the age she was deemed ready to say her vows that tied her forever to Rhaegar. 

This little girl would someday be the queen of all of the Seven Kingdoms. Joanna’s daughter. It seemed like there was no escaping the Targaryens. The female lions just appeared to be drawn back to the Red Keep and all the dangers it held within. From her meek mannerisms, Rhaella thought sadly to herself that this girl would not survive long in the game of thrones. Even the strongest of players were known to be brought down eventually.   
  


“They look very similar to Jaehaerys and his little queen Alysanne.” Varys mentioned one day as he had traveled with Rhaella during one visit to meet the youngest Lannister daughter. Rhaegar and (y/n) were out in the courtyard, enjoying the small amount of sun that streamed in while Rhaella was city down in the patio with the Master of Whispers. Rhaella didn’t mind one bit when Varys asked if he could come along for this visit. He was a wonderful companion and Rhaella enjoyed the interesting conversations they shared. “Don’t you think so, Your Grace?” 

Rhaella watches them as Rhaegar instructs (y/n) where to place her fingers on the harp. Patient as ever, Rhaegar speaks to her in a soft and gentle tone. One of her braids was still undone from where Viserys had pulled at it incessantly. Thalina, (y/n)’s personal hand-maid, had her back pressed up against a column; watching her charge with a pleasant smile. 

Jaehaerys and his little queen Alysanne. . . They went behind their mother to wed one another because they were truly in love. Spending weeks there in Dragonstone, the two had found sanctuary where they could love one another freely and grow. Eventually though, they both found themselves returning to King’s Landing. After all, Jaehaerys was king and couldn’t stay long from his throne. The Queen Mother always saw such a dramatic change in Rhaegar when he was around (y/n). He smiled and laughed more. Back in the Red Keep, all joy was gone from her son as he was forced to watch his father fumble with such a large kingdom. (y/n) made him happy, made him warm. 

“Yes, very much so. . .” She whispers in reply. Rhaegar’s Little Queen. The Mouse of Casterly Rock. She had done quite a bit of growing herself too. Since arriving to the island, (y/n) had learned to be more confident and grow a backbone. Of course she was still learning, undoing all the things that her family had pressed upon her. She spoke with the queen mother now without stuttering or looking shy as she had with their first meeting. 

Plucking from (y/n)’s harp filled the courtyard with whimsy that Rhaella missed the brief exchange between Thalina and the eunuch. 

(y/n) was becoming her own person. Perhaps. . . once she was older she would indeed have what it took to become a major player and win at the game of thrones.


	5. Part 4

“I know I would be a little scared riding a dragon.” You muse while looking up at the sky. Weary from the day’s travel, you had decided to ride atop of the horse that your brother had lovingly named Bastard due to his nature of smacking you in the face with his tail and just being an over all pain in the ass. Even if his name served true, you were still a lady and refused to call him that. You gave him the nickname Bassy. Close enough to Bastard but this way you didn’t have to say it out loud. He was the most stubborn horse you had ever encountered and made it seem like such an inconvenience to be carrying your luggage. Jaime had won him in a fight though, beggars couldn’t be choosers. It would’ve been a complete miracle if you and your brother had happened to get a palfrey like the ones you had as a child. No, nothing as extravagant could be found in your wanderings. Dumpy Bassy had to do. 

“Of course. You’d be on a flying beast that breathes fire. What’s not to be scared about that?” Your older brother chuckles, one hand holding onto Bassy’s reins as he lead the horse down the road. His eyes were searching ahead for the city the two of you had been traveling days for. Volon Therys was what your goal was. The last stop before you were finally in Volantis. Surviving off of dried meat and bread was starting to get tiring and made you even more thirsty. “You could fall off whenever the dragon grew tired of you on its back. That’s what happened to Joffrey Velaryon. Took flight upon his mother’s dragon Syrax and fell to his death because the she-dragon tipped him off her back.” 

What a death that would be. The very thought made you shiver. To fall to one’s death, destroying all your bones after having such a taste of power. 

Jaime glances at you. “As history has told us, having a dragon isn’t a wonderful as the Targaryens made it out to be. True, they’re the ultimate weapon in a war, but a dragon can never be fully tamed. That’s why I would never want a dragon.” 

“That’s understandable but just imagine, Jaime. Being up in the air and just being able to go wherever you wanted.” You hold out your arms as if they were wings and close your eyes “Just like this.” 

“I prefer the ground. That’s where the fighting is.” 

“You can take control of the ground. I’ll take control of the sky.” You laugh, coming to an agreement. “I’m not much of a fighter anyway.” 

Begging to differ, Jaime tells you “You’re getting there. We just have to keep practicing and you’ll be a woman in armor in no time.” 

While along the coast of Essos had been populated by beautiful trees and agreeable weather, heading more inland you and Jaime were met with somewhat of a tropical warmth that made your skin feel tacky. The Disputed Lands of Essos had been fought over for centuries by those of Lys, Myr, and Tyrosh and you could tell why. Not only was it beautiful but it probably yielded quite a bit of fertile land to be used. Since you left Myr though you had not run into anyone else on your trail, despite this land being riddled with bandits and ruffians alike that were desperate for any amount of coin. 

Rifling through your saddlebag, you go to look at the map again. Your journey in Essos had made you cartographer, something you had no need of learning back in Westeros. There were a lot of things you had picked up in Essos that wouldn’t have served you much in King’s Landing. Swordsmanship, cartography, even being slight of hand when you and your brother were desperate for food and low on coin. The latter skill you weren’t very proud of but Jaime had told you that desperate times call for desperate measures. Jaime knew best in these situations so you always did tend to listen and obey, for it meant life and death. 

There was a slight uncomfortable struggle though as Bassy decided to be. . . well, a bastard. He flicked his ears in annoyance as he felt you move around on him, even though it was just the slightest bit. Bassy brayed, pulling his head this way and that in an attempt to get the reins out of Jaime’s grip. 

Your brother curses and stops walking, standing his ground as he dealt with the meddlesome beast. “Calm down, Bastard.” 

Oddly, Bassy always seemed to understand when Jaime called him that negative name. There were certain moments where you swore that Bassy had the intelligence of a human. Bassy let out a louder noise of persistence as he now tried desperately to get away from Jaime. 

In an effort to stay atop of him, you let go of the map, not bothering to see where it flew, and clung onto Bassy’s neck. “Be nicer to him!” 

With an exasperated grimace, Jaime dug his heels into the dirt and tried again to get the horse to stop thrashing. “He’s an animal (y/n). He doesn’t understand what I’m saying.” 

“Oh I think he does!” You were quick to shut up though when Bassy whipped his neck back, your jaw snapping painfully shut. You could’ve sworn that a few of your teeth may have cracked from the action. At least you didn’t bite off the tip of your tongue. 

“Stupid beast!” Jaime hisses. Possessing the strength that he had, it was no match against a horse that weighed 70 stone. Getting onto his hind legs, Bassy was able to rip the reins out of Jaime’s hands; causing your brother to fall backward. 

In a hasty attempt, you reach for the swinging reins; barely catching them before you fell off. 

Bassy started bucking, thrashing his body this way and that as your heart hammered away. Never had any of your palfreys acted in such a vicious manner. You clung with every muscle in your body. Clung for dear life. 

In the middle of the panic you caught the sight of Jaime brandishing his sword. 

“No!” You screamed at him. Finally losing your grip, Bassy succeeded in bucking you off. There you went flying for a moment in the air before Jaime threw aside his sword to catch you. The two of you collided into the ground, the air being knocked out of your body. 

Bassy seemed to glare at you and your brother, beating his hoof against the ground. Worry that he might charge at you entered your mind. Instead he simply took off with what meager belongings you had. 

Jaime slammed his fist against the ground. “Fucking animal!” 

You rolled off of your brother, choosing to lay on the ground, panting and trying to get your heart to stop loudly pounding. Your hands shook terribly. That could have gone a lot worse. You thanked your lucky stars that at least Bassy didn’t kick you or trample you and your brother. 

“Are you okay?” 

Opening your eyes, you look up at Jaime. His blonde hair had grown a lot since his days in the Kingsguard. It looked wild, especially after the fight he had just had with Bassy. 

“I’m fine. . . Where did the map go? I let go of it before that whole thing started to I could try and stay atop.” 

Jaime’s head snapped off to the side and then the opposite direction, squinting his eyes in the hope that he would be able to find the sheet of parchment. By the way his jaw clenched you knew the map to be lost. You close your eyes again and listen to Jaime’s string of curses. At least the last time you had checked it, it looked like you were almost close to Volon Therys. 

“Calm yourself Jaime. Come lay down with me.” 

“I can’t relax now. We don’t have the map, we don’t have food, AND we don’t have water!” He growls not at you but the situation that you are now in. Running a hand over his forehead, Jaime sighs. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you. That fucking horse. . . I knew that guy ripped me off. And here I thought I had won a free horse.” 

“We wouldn’t have needed him for much longer. We traveled so far without a horse before, we can do it again. Besides, Volon Therys shouldn’t be too far away.” You try and cheer him up. “We can hunt whatever game is out here and we can find more water. We’re near the coast after all. There’s bound to be more rivers and lakes. All is not lost. Just made a little bit more complicated.” 

“Complicated is the last thing we need.” Relenting, Jaime finally plops down beside you. “We were so close. I wish that stupid horse would’ve just given us a little bit longer. Just until we made it to the outskirts of the city. He was such a bastard.” 

You giggle a little bit and slowly sit up. Dirt and dust was starting to settle down on you from the fall. “Till the very end.” Exhaling a sigh, you get up to your feet slowly. “Well, we won’t do ourselves any favors by just laying down here all down.” 

Jaime’s hands cover his eyes from the sun as he makes no intention on getting up. “We don’t have a map. How will we know where we’re going?” 

Holding out your hand to him, you give him your best smile. “Have faith, brother. The Crone will guide the way.” 

After a second of wallowing in his own self pity, Jaime grabs your hand and you help lift him up. “Oh great, we’re going to be relying on an invisible old woman.” 

Playfully you swat at his arm making him grin. “If our septa and mother had heard you say that they would surely have pulled your ear.” 

“Mother wouldn’t have meant it. I bet you she would’ve pulled my ear while grinning. She’d probably say ‘Tsk, tsk, my Jaime is a heathen’ all while smiling. You know what smile I’m talking about.” 

You nod, remembering sweetly of your mother. “The one that always reached her eyes making them light up.” 

“Yes, that one. You know, you have her smile. That smile.” He says while beginning to walk forward. Voice far off as if his mind was bringing him back to the days spent in Casterly Rock when Joanna was still alive. “You remind me so much of her sometimes. You took after her more than Cersei ever did.” 

Falling alongside him, you muse “I think she took more after father.” 

He chuckles. “Hah, yes. It’s a good thing she was born a woman. Otherwise I believe she would very well be ruling Westeros with an iron fist.” 

“Heavens forbid.” You gasp and put a hand to your heart. 

That made him laugh louder before he grew quiet in contemplation. “You would have made a good queen, (y/n). I’m sorry that that opportunity was ripped away from you.” 

Pausing for a moment you reflect on your own feelings. Rhaegar always said the same thing. And so did Thalina. “I will be queen one day. Once we get to Volantis and do whatever it was that Thalina wanted us to do, I plan on returning to Westeros. I want to return to Rhaegar and resume being his wife. I don’t care about really queen. I just want to be with Rhaegar.” 

“You think we’ll return to Westeros?” 

“Of course. I don’t want to live out my days here.” You stand your ground while walking a bit faster, feeling the heat in your cheeks rise. “Rhaegar probably thinks I’m dead.” 

Annoyance in his voice, Jaime stops walking. “Why are you so determined to return to him? Have you forgotten-” 

“I haven’t forgotten anything.” You snapped at your brother unconsciously. When you see his stunned expression you reel yourself back with a big inhale. “I’m sorry. But you shouldn’t be so quick to cling to the past. Rhaegar apologized. He promised he would never hurt me again.” 

“And then he up and left you when you were dying.” Jaime refused to let it go as his own face grew hot. 

“I’m sure he had his reasons! Why are you so quick to hate him?” You couldn’t keep the glare out of your eyes. 

“Why are you so loyal to him?” He countered with a growl. “That urchin has done nothing for you! Nothing that would garner loyalty from you!” 

That was it. You stopped walking and turned full force to your brother. “He got me out of the hell that was Casterly Rock! He showed me that I was worth something, Jaime! All of my life I had been treated. . . treated like I was nothing. By father, by Cersei. . . even by you. And for the longest time I believed it. I believed that I would never grow up to be anything worthwhile. That because I wasn’t like Cersei I would never find someone who would love and adore me. Ever since I met Rhaegar my life has changed so much. For the better. He gave me confidence. That confidence is all my own now. He taught me that there is strength in my kindness unlike father who thought it was a weakness. I’m not going to sit by idly while you bad mouth him.” 

Jaime stood there with wide eyes, staring at you. Slowly he held his hands up. “Okay. . . Okay. . . I’m sorry (y/n). Please don’t cry. . .” 

Fiercely you use your sleeve to wipe at your eyes. Indeed there were tears staining the fabric of your sleeve. “I love him. . .” 

“I know.” 

“We were going to have a baby. . .” 

“I know.” Slowly, Jaime drew you against his chest until he was smothering your sobs.


	6. Part 5

“I’m sorry, Your Grace. . . Your mother has died. . .” 

His ears had become numb. White noise was all he heard, sweeping him up just as it did when the news of (y/n) had been brought to him not too long ago. He was forced to lose another important person in his life. 

A deep pain made its home in Rhaegar’s chest as he reached out for something to steady him. Jon Connington had been right beside him, catching him by the arm. 

Rhaegar closed his eyes, trying to collect himself. It wouldn’t do for his men to see him in this state. “What of the baby?” 

The messenger who was holding onto the note that had been delivered by raven, clutches it tightly. “She lives.” 

Hope. A small mustard seed of hope, but hope nonetheless. “A girl? I have a sister?” 

“Yes. Rhaella named her before she passed from this world. Your sister’s name is Daenerys.” 

Letting out a shaky breath, Rhaegar smiled. “Daenerys.” 

Jon took it upon himself to ask the next few questions. “Is she still on Dragonstone?” 

The messenger nods. “Yes Ser.” 

“Does Aerys yet know of the child’s birth?” 

That made the young boy paused, looking from the silver haired Rhaegar to the fiery locks of Jon. He lowers his eyes, fearing both of the great men’s gazes. “Yes. . . He has instructed that no one be allowed to dock on Dragonstone and that the young Prince Viserys and Princess Daenerys be kept there until further notice.” 

Rhaegar clenches his jaw. “Glad to know my father hasn’t changed a bit. And I bet he didn’t grieve the loss of his wife?” 

“That I do not know, Your Grace. It was risky enough sending along the message to you.” 

He already knew that Aerys didn’t grieve the death of Rhaella. Neither of them had loved the other. It wouldn’t be such a devastating blow to Aerys as it had been to Rhaegar losing (y/n). 

“It’s probably best for them to stay on Dragonstone. Safer. As long as Aerys doesn’t try and bring them to King’s Landing. They should be fine.” Rhaegar whispered more so to himself. No one could hurt his younger siblings there on the remote island. He just regretted that they were by themselves. No mother or father, not even their big brother, there to guide them. They were alone, far from any family. 

Dismissing the messenger, Rhaegar sighs and sits down at his small table. Sprawled out across the wood surface was his battle plan. A map of all of Westeros with small pieces made of stone, those that were painted red were symbolic of his father’s army, the small stone dragon pieces that were white were for Rhaegar’s troops. They were scattered all throughout the map, many of the red pieces being clustered near King’s Landing and along the Kingsroad. One positive thing that Aerys actually had going for him was his paranoia. It made him act fast in setting up clusters of troops near King’s Landing and any other major road that led to it which in turn proved to make the march more difficult for Rhaegar and his men. Robert Baratheon wasn’t one to be discouraged as he boasted that he would tear down each and everyone of the men that were sent their way. Oberyn liked the storm lord’s enthusiasm as he was ready for the battles to come. Jon, Rhaegar and Arthur were of a more cautious constitution. 

“I’m sorry to hear about Queen Rhaella.” Arthur whispered, taking the opposite seat. “She was a good woman.” 

“Good women hardly make it in this world.” Commented Jon who was pouring himself a generous glass of wine. 

“It seems like I never have time to mourn.” Rhaegar reclines, staring at the red and white that was on the table. “I’ll weep for her when the war is won. . . Are you sure these were all the troops that were planted along the Kingsroad?” 

Swirling the dark liquid around, Jon nods. “According to the Spider. Who knows if we can truly trust him though.” 

“We can’t. We just have to gamble that he’s an ally.” Arthur replied, playing with an extra white dragon. His fingers rolled around the tiny details, running along the spine that possessed small bumps and along the wings that were curled in. 

Rhaegar heaves out a sigh, betraying how weary he was of this whole war. “We have many questionable people on our side. Oberyn believes that we must take everyone who offers us a hand.” 

That made Jon chuckle snidely. “He shouldn’t talk. Accepting a marriage proposal to Cersei Lannister. . .” He shakes his head. “Beyond stupid.” 

“He has a point though.” The Sword of the Morning admitted, albeit grudgingly. “The only reason Aerys still has the major lords in his hand is due to everyone fearing him and his madness. There are a great many that believe it was him that. . . that set fire to (y/n)’s room. . .” Even Jon winced at the mention of Rhaegar’s late wife. Even a year after her passing and the wound had not yet healed for their prince. It grew infected and worse by the day as he carried her death with him. They saw the damage it had done from his eyes. 

Half lidded eyes look up at his friends, those he would trust with his life. They were frozen, waiting for what Rhaegar’s reaction would be. Truth be told he no longer possessed any energy to cry for her even though when he was alone at night, memories of her would dance in his mind. The feeling of how she felt pressed up against him as they slept together in the safety of his bed. . . He longed for those days. 

Wetting his lips, Arthur sets down the map piece and looks away. “I’m sorry, Your Grace. I didn’t mean to bring up something so painful. . .” 

He shook his head. “Please don’t apologize. Not to me.” Wanting to change the subject, Rhaegar switches his attention back to the matter at hand. “Knowing my father, he probably has men waiting for our army in the Kingswood. As easy as it would be going through there we can’t risk it. The Kingswood is no place for a full on battle. The forces from King’s Landing will know that place like the back of their hand. We have no choice but to cross through the territories of the Reach.” 

“That land is rich with those who are leal to Aerys.” Warned Arthur. 

“We’ll have more open space if there’s a battle.” The prince counter argued. “We have a large battalion, thanks to the newly added men from Tywin Lannister and Dornishmen that are itching for the sight of blood. It would be an utter blood bath if we were to go through the Kingswood. The Reach offers a nice open battlefield. And who knows, maybe we could win over some of the smaller lords of the Reach.” 

Jon finally settles into a seat. “We can only hope so.” 

Shouts and screams from outside make the three men rise from their seats, alert and poised; ready for another battle. Rhaegar, closer to the tent’s exit, pulls back the flap and gazes outside to a multitude of knights hastily putting their armor on and climbing onto their horses. Chaos weaves between tents as Jon and Arthur gaze at their army, a frenzied mess. 

One knight spots Rhaegar and immediately dashes toward him. The stag of Baratheon emblazoned on his chest. “Your Grace, it’s an ambush on one of our camps.” 

“Has anyone caught sight of our enemies’ sigil?” Arthur is quick to ask before the knight runs off to join the battle. Already there is the clashing of swords in the distance that echoed in the once quiet clearing that they had made their camp in. 

He shakes his head before hiking his leg over his horse’s back. The war horse gallops away to the source of battle. 

Young Bors is already running toward Rhaegar, cheeks ablaze from running. “I’m sorry, Your Grace. I’m sorry that I’m late.” 

“Don’t waste your breath on unnecessary apologies.” Rhaegar retreats back into his tent to get ready for another battle.  
  


The fighting was in his northernmost camp where most of the Dornish army resided. Not taking too long to join the fight, a knight wearing the sigil of House Ashford immediately swung his blade at the Silver Prince who had just dismounted his horse. Rhaegar quickly deflected the blow with his own sword, making it sing along the length of his foes’ steal and making a quick jab to the Ashford knight’s throat. He fell off to the side and in came another to claim the glory of killing the would-be king. This time it was by a knight of House Merryweather. Noble houses of the Reach, loyal to Aerys, must have already gotten word of Rhaegar’s victory at Summerhall and prepared for his move through their rich lands. Those loyal to the Mad King were scared of his army as they should be. Spread the word to his father that he was coming for the throne. Rhaegar posed an actual threat with his own troops and forces. Aerys should not take him lightly. 

Amidst the battle, Rhaegar caught sight of Robert’s horned helm as he was slaughtering foes left to right with such force that Rhaegar would have mistaken him for the Warrior himself. The young Baratheon bull fought with such force and fury that it was almost terrifying. Rhaegar would not want to be the one fighting against him in combat. There was something off though in Robert’s movement. Despite him seemingly slaying the enemy with ease, he was staggering. Reach knights noticed this as well and took advantage as they swarmed in on him like a bunch of ravenous locusts. Even for Robert, it was too much for him as he was starting to drown among them. Ned was deep in his own fight as was his brother; leaving Robert completely to his own. 

Gritting his teeth, Rhaegar made the journey over to the young Baratheon lord to help him. Many got in the way, each one cut down by Rhaegar’s sword. Suns, direwolves, dragons, and stags alike blurred with the banners of the opposition as the frenzied dance continued all around him. This wasn’t like Summerhall which had been an easy victory. It was complete madness. Troops of the Reach were dwindling though, unable to withstand the might of Rhaegar’s army. 

Robert met Rhaegar’s gaze, blue against lavender, as Rhaegar hacked away at the throng that had clustered around Robert. The two men fought back to back, defending one another as they thinned out those of House Merryweather and Ashford. Someone knocked off Rhaegar’s helm; who, he could not say as he wasn’t paying attention to sigils anymore. Both men were focused on keeping the other alive. 

Before Rhaegar could react, a knight came swinging at his face. As Rhaegar was engaged in another sword fight, he was unable to block the attack. . .  
*  


_“Your hair is so pretty.” (y/n) chirps happily from behind him. Rhaegar could only chuckle as he sat patiently as the young Lannister girl braided his hair. He looked out across the water that surrounded Dragonstone. A lovely day as a nice breeze makes the grass sway gently against them. Rhaegar’s harp sat across his legs, forgotten as he continued to smile at (y/n) braiding his hair. Little fingers that were clumsy at the harp were working so diligently at braiding his hair. _

_“Aaaand done!” She proclaims proudly, scooching away from Rhaegar to let him assess her work. _

_He moves his hand behind his head to feel several thick braids meticulously weaved into his hair. “That’s incredible.” And he meant it. “Where did you learn to do that?” _

_(y/n) moves back so that she’s facing him. Her own pale blonde hair was pulled back into braids. A pinkish-red ribbon finished off the end of her hair. “Thalina taught me. I used to practice on her hair before Viserys stuck molasses into it. Honestly she looks better with short hair though.” _

_That made Rhaegar frown. So young and his little brother was already acting up. A few months ago, Rhaella had came for a visit and brought Viserys with her as he was still needing his mother. He wreaked havoc on Dragonstone, as Rhaegar read from letters that (y/n) had sent him. A ‘cute little terror’ as (y/n) had called him. Already becoming entitled, Viserys had not let any of the maesters or septas have any peace when he was there. Especially (y/n). Even though she was older and held authority, Viserys walked all over her and treated her like any other house servant. He pulled her hair, broke her belongings, threw her jewelry into the sea and even set fire to a beautiful doll that Rhaegar had gotten her for her name day. He was surprised that all (y/n) had to say about Viserys was that he was a ‘troublesome child’. Any other girl of her status would have been furious and thrown a tantrum. Not gentle hearted (y/n). She took everything in stride, reminding everyone that he was just a child and didn’t know any better. The truth was that Viserys was being spoiled by their father. Aerys was already putting ideas of entitlement into the little prince’s mind; that everything belonged to him and no one could say no to him. Rhaella could do nothing about it as Aerys always had the last word in how his children were raised. _

_Rhaegar watches (y/n) as she goes on to make a crown composed of the small white flowers that were strewn all over the hill. She hummed to herself happily as she did so. There was such an improvement in her demeanor that Rhaegar couldn’t help the warmth that permeated in his chest. _

_“Are you happy here, (y/n)?” _

_She turns up her soft, green eyes. “Very much! I like to play in the room where the big table is. You can see all the mountains and rivers. It helps me when the maester teaches me geography.” _

_“Good. I’m glad.”_  
*  


Rhaegar held up the hand mirror to examine his face. 

“Can you still see out of your right eye?” Jon fretted behind him. 

“Truth be told, I can’t see anything. My vision is all foggy.” 

Robert, mending from his own wounds, gives out a hearty chuckle. “That’s what milk of the poppy will do to you.” 

Even though he couldn’t see much, Rhaegar could still make out the vicious red line that went diagonally across his face. Pieces of his silver hair had been slashed off, making the maester cut off his long hair. Apparently it wouldn’t do to have the future king with a shabby haircut. Rhaegar thought it the least of his worries as he tried to force his vision to clear. 

In a more serious tone, Robert continues. “You saved my life. I’m in your debt now.” 

Gingerly, Rhaegar prodes at his face. It stung only a little bit, the milk of the poppy doing it’s job in numbing the pain. A scar, it would leave a nasty scar. He remembered (y/n)’s scars that were on her back. Long and jagged, now they matched. Rhaegar could still remember running his lips and tongue over her scars, how she would twitch as his motions tickled her slightly. A giggle would escape her and he would do it again out of playfulness instead of lust. There was no sound sweeter in the world than that of (y/n)’s uncontrollable giggles. 

He set down the mirror and turned his attention to Robert. “Consider the debt repaid once I have my throne.” 

He wouldn’t play games with his father anymore. Aerys had done too much damage. Killing (y/n) and continuously harming the gentle Rhaella. . . 

Gone was the boy who loved to play his harp to delight his little fiancee. 

Rhaegar would go after him with fire and blood.


	7. Part 6

She wouldn’t let the sight of the man intimidate her. The very sight of him had her chest flinching with fear. Knowing what this man was, what he did, it made her all to conscious of them being alone. 

Cersei purses her lips and pushes the fairytale that her mother had told her long ago out of her mind. There was no time for that. That kind of stuff wasn’t real. Even if it was, well, the best for her she supposed. 

“Half now, the rest when the deed is done.” That’s what the daughter of the golden lion had told this assassin. Inniros Orelelion. There was a power in her narrowed green eyes. It was nowhere near the somewhat bored stare that came from Inniros’ single blue eye. The other. . . well, the other was closed, sunken in by what was lost. When he moved his head, his shocking red dreadlocks moved to cover it as to not offend a lady of her pedigree. Cersei could hardly care. What she did care about was what this man could do. She had searched high and low for someone of his caliber. Once part of the Golden Company and even more important was the rumor that clung heavy on him. “I’ll throw in extra if you return my brother to me, alive.” 

“It will be done, Your Grace.” His voice, not used to talking, was gravely and low as his eye lowers to the sack of coins she had hefted onto the table. 

Grimacing, Cersei leans back in her seat; worried glances at the door then back to Inniros’ sickly pale face.”We shall see. I have sent the finest assassins after them. None have succeeded.” 

Inniros stood and swiftly grabbed the bag, measuring the weight in his hand. “I’m not the finest. I’m the best there is.” 

Abruptly jumping out of her seat, she stares with disbelief at what she had just witnessed. With complete ease and nonchalance, Inniros had walked into a corner that was dark with shadows and completely disappeared within them. 

She stares hard what where the assassin had once been. It was true. This man who was born from the shadowlands of Asshai was a shadowdancer. A darkin like the one from her mother’s stories. Someone who could control shadows at their beck and call. 

A chill ran up her spine at the thought that they had been alone together. Someone who had a capability like that. . . an evil capability that came from the Stranger. 

Breathing deeply was able to calm her nerves. What’s done was done. A handsome fee had already been paid just to get information on Inniros Orelelion. Not that the Casterly Rock vaults would miss it. They were swelling with gold. 

The cost didn’t matter. She would spend as much as was necessary. Eyelids lowering at her fingers, lovely and flawless. “Come home to me Jaime. . .” 

“Lady Cersei? Lady Cersei?” A servant is heard calling her down the hall. 

A sigh heavy on her lips, Cersei gets up and pokes her head out of the council room. “Stop all that yelling. What is it?” 

Collecting her breath, the maid holds out a neatly folded letter from her apron. “His Grace Prince Rhaegar has been injured!” 

“Is it fatal?” Cersei snatches the letter and skims over it. 

Slash across the face. 

Protecting Robert Baratheon. 

Wounded. 

Still advancing. 

She had thought Rhaegar a coward at first and highly doubted that he would win even with the help from House Lannister and the Dornish. 

But Rhaegar was now causing fear in the Crownlands. 

Since the battle in the Reach, Rhaegar’s army had been advancing quickly; cutting down anyone that got in his way. A sudden switch in him that seemed to turn the tides. It was only a matter of time before he toppled Aerys off the throne. He would be king and Cersei would be married to Oberyn and living in the hot sands of Dorne. 

“Has my father said when they estimate on Rhaegar’s army arriving in King’s Landing?” Cersei closes the council room door behind her and follow the maid to her father’s apartments. 

“Not yet. He’s dealing with a raven he received from King’s Landing. Aerys is scared and running to Tywin to fix everything.” A few more doors to pass and they would be at his library. “The king makes his own doom too easy.” 

Quickly knocking to announce Cersei’s arrival, the maid bows and takes her leave. 

“Enter.” 

Cersei puts the meeting with Inniros out of her mind and walks into the library. How boring the life of a lord must be to consistently be stuck in a room; signing this, writing that all sounded tedious to Cersei as she finds her father permanently stuck to his chair. Keen eyes focused on the note that was no doubt from Aerys. 

“What tidings does the Mad King send to you, father?” Leveled and cool, Cersei perches herself on a chair, eyeing the new lines around Tywin’s eyes; a reminder of his age and the toll of Jaime’s disappearance had on him.. 

He hardly looked in the mood for anything. If Jaime didn’t return, Tywin would have to name a new heir. Long ago when Jaime first decided to be a knight, it was decided by Tywin that no matter what, little Tyrion would never inherit the title of lord. Beyond everything, Cersei’s father held out hope that Jaime would eventually come to his senses and come back to Casterly Rock where he belonged. Now everything had fallen around Tywin as he tasted bitter ashes of his empire. 

“He wants me to send my troops to defend King’s Landing when Rhaegar arrives.” Stating simply, Tywin set aside the king’s notice and looks up at his daughter. 

Cersei offers him a smile. “None the wiser.” 

Even with this news Tywin did not smile. “Do not be too confident just yet. Rhaegar still has to overthrow Aerys.” 

She scoffs and leans back in the chair. “He might as well already be at the gates. Do you not smell the fire that he set in the Reach? How it has begun to engulf the Crownlands? We should be calling him King Rhaegar.” 

“Much can happen.” He warns, making Cersei purse her lips. “A Targaryen uprising like this hasn’t happened in centuries. Not since the Blackfyre Rebellion. People forget how easily the tides can turn. Caution is required now as are calculated moves.” 

Victory had already been on Cersei’s tongue though. Once Rhaegar took the throne he would wed Elia Martell, sister to her own fiance Oberyn. She would be that much closer to power. In Dorne, women were more revered and weren’t thought of as the weaker sex. In Dorne, women were allowed to rule. She was already coming up with her own plans on how to take rule of the sandy dunes of one of the most difficult kingdoms that Westeros had ever fought against. 

Lowering her lashes, she knew that her father had much wisdom in the art of war. “Caution. . .” 

Something Jaime never took heed of. Internally, Cersei scolds herself for thinking of him. By now Cersei was convinced that Jaime had fled, possibly rescuing (y/n) from the flames that Cersei had let loose. Somewhere in Essos they were together now. 

Indignation fanned Cersei’s cheeks just thinking about it. He had made his choice. Now Jaime would pay for it. He had deftly taken down each assassin sent. Not this time. This one was different. Cersei witnessed it herself. Inniros was no ordinary man. 

It was hard for her not to get her hopes up. 

Caution. She needed caution and to hold her breath. Trust that this killer birthed from shadows would get the job done.  
*  


He watched them diligently atop of one of Volon Therys’ many towers as they entered the city. How hard could it be? Jaime Lannister may have been a former King’s Guard but that meant little to Inniros. He had taken down men twice as strong as this young cub. From what the Lady Lannister had divulged to him, he had need of caution around her brother. That he was an expert with blades. Blades could do little against a shadow though. His main goal however was the sister. The young girl that walked happily at his side. Even though they were but a speck at the height Inniros was at, his hawk-like eyes were able to see true that these were the ones. Both blonde of hair. If he succeeded in getting the young maid alone then his job would be that much easier. Innocence plain on her awestruck face, Inniros felt like a cat with a tiny bird in his claws. Easy. 

Inniros reached out to the shadows at his feet as he slowly dissolved into them. This river front city had plenty of shadows for him to walk through. A voice inside of him spoke of the trepidation; everything about this assignment was proving too simple. Never the less it was the easiest money he would ever make.  
**  


You and Jaime deserved to rest. With Bastard having taken all of your belongings, including your money, there was no way that you could afford to rent a room. 

Jaime finds a spot for you to sit and wait. “I’ll go get some money. Just wait here for me and don’t talk to anyone. Keep your hand on your sword. We don’t know how dangerous this place is.” 

Your brother was always scared when he was forced to part ways with you. He didn’t like the idea of not being able to keep an eye on you. “I’ll be fine, Jaime. I know you’ll get funds in no time. Be careful.” 

Rough hand patting the top of your head, it lingered as he chews at his bottom lip. Growing self-conscious with the knowledge that your hair hadn’t been washed in days you take a step back. His hand falls to his side. “I’ll be back. Two hours tops.” 

“I’ll be waiting.” You smile up at him and watch him as he reluctantly left. As he had instructed, you kept your hand on the pommel of your sword; eyes observing the daily going-ons in Volon Therys. You and Jaime had arrived in the city in the late afternoon. Being so, there was a decent flow of people walking around; too busy to pay you any attention. Finally you felt the weariness of your travels weigh you down. A night’s rest would have you ready for your final destination: Volantis. Already fantasizing of sleeping on a bed, your body relaxes a bit. Jaime had set you down on a discarded barrel, out of the way of the main street but still in sight of the pedestrians. Tented stalls that sold various items were alive with business. Above you was a stone archway that provided shade from the descending sun. 

Your stomach grumbled at the scent of someone roasting meat. Mouth filling with saliva you shake the hunger from your head and instead pull your sword out of its scabbard. Your sword wasn’t anything grand. Jaime had just picked it up from a thug that thought he could pull one over on your brother. The blade was dull and scratched in several places. Something you would have never seen in King’s Landing. Knights and soldiers took great care with their weapons, priding themselves with keeping their swords sharp and glistening. This sword had not been well loved before falling into your hands. You had tried to get the scuffs out, polish it a little bit but it was no use. Years of mistreatment had taken its toll. 

You turn your wrist in practice, the way your brother had taught you. The sword becoming an extension of your arm as you set on simple practice drills as you sat waiting. All while humming The Dornishman’s Wife. 

Humming halting, you feel something in the pit of your gut. Sick, cold and slithering inside of you. Something you had never felt before. 

You didn’t feel good. 

Out of instinct you stand up and lean forward as if you were going to vomit. 

Just in time to catch the metallic sound of a sword swinging in the air behind you. Abruptly you spin around, sword at the ready to catch a glimpse of bright red hair and a gleaming blue eye. The face disappears before reappearing off to the side. Astoundingly tall, this stranger emerges from his blanket of darkness. Shocking red dreadlocks tied together in a ponytail rests over his shoulder. The bottom half of his face was concealed by a black cloth. 

Hand immediately becoming sweaty, you move to take a step back to prepare yourself for a fight. Only. . . you couldn’t move your feet despite attempting to lift your leg up. A thick shadow was holding your feet down to the ground, forbidding you from moving. 

You panicked as he moved to strike you. 

_“Darkin.” Your mother’s voice came to you. A memory as she held you in her arms. Her chin rested atop of your head as she kisses your crown. In a scary voice she continues reading the book that was in front of you; your little hands holding it up as she read. “These creatures give up their souls to become one with the shadows. To shape, control, and even walk in them. They come from the shadowlands of Asshai where the people there even fear them as well.” _

_“Are there any darkin in Westeros, momma?” You tilt your head up. _

_She smiles. “No darling. These are just stories. They aren’t real.”_

Gods. . . this couldn’t be- 

Sword blocking his attack, your body moves backwards as you tried not to fall over. Knees buckling, you use all of your strength to swipe him away. He moved easily, not like he was fighting. Like he was dancing. Taking a step back he disappeared again only for you to feel him behind you again. 

Everything was happening so fast. Your heart didn’t even have a chance to beat shen you felt his presence. 

This was how you would die. Unable to move to defend yourself. Pitiful and weak. 

Then he hissed, the shadow at your feet quivering. 

“Let her go. Unless you want another lash.” A heavily accented female voice laced with venom. 

That didn’t scare off your assailant. The noises you could hear behind you were that of a struggle. 

Cracking of a whip filled the air and made you inwardly flinch. The woman spoke in a foreign language that you couldn’t pinpoint. Hisses and grunts could be heard from the male until silence. 

“He’ll be back.” She grunted. A weight was lifted from your feet. The moment you felt it you turned to face her. Beautiful dark skin, face framed by a wealth of thick black curls and a proud, furrowed brow. “We must make sure that you’re at the Red Temple before he strikes again.” 

So many questions. The urgency in her hazel eyes told you that there wasn’t time for any of that. 

You were wary though. This new stranger mentioned the Red Temple, something Thalina had told Jaime. That didn’t give you cause to trust her though. 

The hand that held her weapon, a golden whip, went slack as her features softened. “You are (y/n) Lannister, yes?” 

Keeping your mouth shut you eye her, vaguely nodding yes. 

“You can call me Sirvart. I am a servant of the Lord of Light. Thalina sent us a letter telling of your arrival. It was my duty to wait for you here in Volon Therys for as long as it took so that I may safely escort you to Volantis.” 

Thalina. A mere stranger wouldn’t have known who Thalina was. 

You lower your sword feeling exhausted all over again. Sirvart offered you her hand. “We must leave before the darkin returns. I lack the power to kill him.” 

“W-Wait. My brother. I’m supposed to be waiting for him.” Fearfully you gaze at the closeby shadows, wondering if your assailant was still there. Waiting for another opportunity to strike. 

Sirvart nods. “We shall retrieve him then.”  
  
  


She seemed to know where she was going, this mysterious woman as she lead you through the streets with ease. Her eyes never stopped scanning her surroundings though. Always alert and watching the shadows closely. 

“Do you know where my brother is?” You hesitantly ask. 

“Yes. My companion alerted me. That’s how I knew you would be here too. She told me that there was a young man with hair like gold making trouble in a tavern nearby.” Sirvart’s pace was brisk and business like. 

Thinking of the shadow man, you dared to speak up. “And. . . that man. . . was he really a darkin?” 

Stopping, she meets your concerned expression. High cheekbones lowering a fraction as she frowned. “Yes.” 

“I thought they weren’t real. My mother used to tell me stories about them.” 

“Many share the same assumption. Darkin are all but gone now so they might as well be stories. A hand few of them are still around, make no mistake about that.” Pensive, Sirvart continues a much more leisurely stroll. “For one to attack a follower of R’hllor though. . . That’s unheard of.” 

“Why is it unheard of?” 

“Without light, there can be no shadows, only darkness.” She states matter of factly. “Many darkin worship R’hllor and would never do harm to his followers. That one must have been a rogue.” 

Why had he been after you? The question was left on the tip of your tongue. You didn’t really want to know the answer. The reason why this man made from the tales your mother had told you wanted you dead. 

Soon enough, you and Sirvart had made it to the seedier side of the city. Where crime seemed the only way to live. There was an area like that in every place you had ventured to. Even King’s Landing had Flea Bottom. You knew that’s why Jaime left you behind whenever he had to go to places like that. They were dangerous. Silly, you should have been used to that threat by now. It never ceased to surprise you though. The coarseness of humanity and how life could turn out so cruel for so many. 

Reassuringly, you pat the handle of your sword to make sure it was still hugging your hip. 

Outside a rundown looking establishment was a slip of a girl. Coming closer, she turns her pale face toward you and Sirvart. Sleek black hair that comfortably reached her shoulders as she stood patiently outside of the door. You noticed a few men eye her, but quickly avert their gaze when they see her face. A mass of scarlet freckles decorated her cheeks almost making her look like she had some sort of disease. They were off putting against her pale skin. Two strips of red were tattooed on either corner of her mouth, running down to her chin. She was an oddity but somehow they made her look pretty in an ethereal way. 

Sirvart calls out to her. “Alizah.” 

Even though her face was turned toward you, she seems to perk up at her name and smile. She was blind. “You found her.” 

“Aye. Is he still in there?” 

Alizah nods. Black unfocused eyes glittered like the night sky. “It’s so nice to finally meet you (y/n).” Even though she was blind, it felt like she was actually looking at you. Like she saw you. 

“Alizah, there’s a darkin after this one.” 

Alizah blinks owlishly, her smile dipping down into concern. Realizing how urgent the matter is, Alizah opens the door for you and Sirvart to enter. The tavern is incredibly noisy and filled with a dense cloud of smoke. Smoke from what, you hadn’t a clue. Confidently leading the way, Alizah moved through with grace and ease while you couldn’t help feeling self-conscious of the many men that stared at you and your two female cohorts. The three of you obviously stuck out. 

There was a group of men gathered at a table, but you could clearly make out Jaime’s voice among the hoots and cheers. 

“Alright men, pay up!” Jaime shouted, cockiness thick in his tone. He was met with a few grumbles and quite a handful of nasty glares as men handed over their money to the golden boy who spoke the Common Tongue. 

Squeezing your way past a few grubby men, you get to the center where you catch Jaime’s attention. Frowning at the sight of you there, he collects the money and promptly puts it away. “(y/n), what are you doing here?” 

Sirvart pushed her way through to stand next to you, sending deadly eyes at men who looked your way. “I was attacked while waiting for you. This is Sirvart. She saved me and is here to escort us to Volantis.” 

“Attacked?” Jaime immediately stood up. Panic made his eyes wild as he moves away from the group and ushers you and Sirvart out of the circle to where Alizah stood patiently. He eyes the other girl but is too concerned about you. 

“I tried to fight back.” You claim defensively. “But. . .” 

Shoulders drooping, Jaime lets out a sigh and rests his hand on your shoulder. “It’s okay. You’re alright. That’s all that matters.” Now he addresses Sirvart and Alizah. “Thank you for helping my sister.” 

“Thanks are not needed.” Alizah replies in that dreamy voice of her’s. “If you’re done with your business here I suggest we leave for our boat.” 

Gnawing on his bottom lip, Jaim glanced at you. “What about resting?” 

How you wanted to rest from your long journey. You couldn’t though. That wasn’t an option now. “It would be best if we keep moving. They’ve been waiting here for us all this time. Plus whoever attacked me is still after me.” 

Your safety put in danger was enough to make Jaime nod. “Okay. Lets go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So a bit of explaining: The term and concept of darkin is from the Nevernight Trilogy. A wonderful book series by Jay Kristoff that I highly recommend. In the books, darkins are born that way and some have familiars made of shadows. For the sake of this story though I'm kind of altering a few things just to make it suit my story c:


	8. Part 7

Inniros hisses, ghost white hands clawing at his back where the Red Priestess had whipped him. Searing hotk, far worse than any lashing he had felt for it was dealt by a worshipper of the Lord of Light. His entire back was hot, throbbing to the point where he wanted to rip his skin off. Why had she interfered? He had her. His task could have already been done with. 

Baring his teeth, he rocks forward; anything to ease the torture. 

Lord of Light. 

He glares at the simple candle he had lit, the shadows formed and flickered on the walls of his temporary room. Willing his shadows to snuff it out, they wiggled and quaked; unable to go against the light. A bead of sweat trailing down his temple, Inniros huffs. If any of his cohorts from the Golden Company saw him now, they wouldn’t believe him to be the same person. Like a god among them, Inniros had gained fame and rank in what seemed like over night. Of course they wouldn’t know his one weakness. 

R’hllor. 

For the longest time Inniros had vehemently denied the connection of his ability with that of the fiery faith. 

Despite his master insisting that he must respect the duality of the relationship. It was so easy to get drunk on the power of shadow binding. 

Now it was clear though. 

Inniros catches his reflection in the mirror, as dim as it was. One lone blue eye glaring back at him. An eye that painfully reminded him of his mother. At least the thought of her dulled the pain he was feeling. 

What would she think of him now? A killer for hire. Delving deeper and deeper into his shadow art. 

Fingers limp on his back, he remembers how tenderly his mother took care of him when he got hurt. Everything else about Asshai may have been tough but not her. She had never belonged there. 

_“Don’t cry.” _

_“I miss my mom.” Little Inniros pathetically wipes at his overflowing eyes. “I want my mom.” _

_“She’s beyond you now, boy.” His Master was always quick to scold. Burly and wearing a mask like many did in Asshai, he would pick up Inniros by the back of his shirt and pull him off his feet. “Unless you want me to throw you in the grave with her.”_

What else was a little boy to do but suck up his tears and bury his sadness. Shadows replaced all sorrow. They ate away any emotion until he was a shell. 

It was all worth it. 

Testing his back, Inniros picks up his dragonglass blade. 

There was no resting until the girl was dead.   
  
**   


“Darkin? Be serious (y/n).” Jaime scoffs, relaxing in his hammock. He was keeping you company in the small cabin below as you were prone to serious sea sickness. It wouldn’t be long until you reached Volantis. 

Taking a deep breath in an attempt to keep the nausea at bay, you place a hand over your mouth. “I am being serious, Jaime. Sirvart was with me. She saw him too. They aren’t just stories. What, dragons are easy to believe but not darkin?” 

“The documentation of dragons is a well studied one. There’s the bones in King’s Landing. There’s proof. Darkin? Just tales that mom used to tell us.” 

“You shouldn’t be so quick to reject their existence.” Alizah pipes in. She sat perfectly still on the floor next to you. Her eyes filled with stars staring at nothing in particular. “If you’re this credulous, then you might have a hard time when we reach Volantis.” 

Shifting, Jaime narrows his eyes at the blind priestess. “What do you mean? Does this have to do with Thalina?” 

Alizah nods. “Of course. She set the stage for everything.” 

Leaning closer, Jaime persists. “So? What’s the big secret? Why is it so important for (y/n) to go to the Red Temple in Volantis?” 

This makes her laugh. “This one asks a lot of questions!” 

You smile, teasing your brother as well. “He sure does.” 

Laughter dies as Alizah sighs. It was so eery how her eyes seemed to be looking at you despite her not possessing sight. “What did Thalina tell you of R’hllor?” 

“Just an outline. . . Azor Ahai, the Long Night. . . She didn’t really get into details. We had just started discussing it before- well before everything went down.” You didn’t want to think of Thalina’s death. It still made you sad thinking of how she died. Thalina didn’t deserve any of it. At a time when you didn’t have any friends, she had been your constant companion. 

“We believe that one day Azor Ahai will come back to us in the form of another.” You heard Jaime scoff again but you chose to ignore it. “There will come a day after a long summer when the stars bleed and the cold breath of darkness falls heavy on the world. A warrior shall draw from the fire a burning sword. And that sword shall be Lightbringer, the Red Sword of Heroes and he who clasps it shall be Azor Ahai come again, and the darkness shall flee before them.” 

“That’s a lovely story.” Practically hearing Jaime’s eyes roll in his statement. 

“Jaime. Don’t be rude.” 

“What does this story have anything to do with my sister? Or are you all just a bunch of religious freaks trying to convert us?” 

Groaning you knew there was no stopping Jaime’s mouth. When he disagreed with something he always voiced it. There was no muzzling him. 

None of this bothered Alizah though as she continued to smile. “A prophecy was foreseen long ago. One that pertained to when Azor Ahai reborn would come back. Those of us who are lucky enough can read flames. These flames can make predictions as well. Thalina was just beginning to show promise when she had a vision. Of you. A little mouse stuck in a den of lions.” 

You remembered back in King’s Landing. Moments when you would be mesmerized by the flames in your fireplace. How they danced in such a way that could be mistaken for an image. And your dreams. . . The dreams you had had in your poison induced sleep. 

“(y/n), Thalina believed you to be Azor Ahai reborn.” 

Deathly silent. 

Until Jaime jumped out of his hammock, anger bright in his wildfire eyes. “That’s it?! That’s why we left Westeros because some crazy girl thought she saw my sister in a fire? We came out here for nothing!” 

“Ja-” 

“No (y/n).” He snapped and you knew best to let him vent. Jaime glared at Alizah. “You’re all crazy.” 

“And why do you think that?” Alizah hummed, unphased by his outburst. She’s picking at the hem of her sleeve. “You sound scared.” 

That made him bare his teeth. “I fear nothing. Look at her! Does she look like a prophet to you?” 

Maybe you should have been offended. You saw where your brother was coming from though. You could use a sword but not very well; still possessing baby fat in your cheeks and an unintimidating atmosphere around you. 

“You’re right.” Alizah flicks her eyes to you. “She doesn’t look like a prophet. She looks like a hero.” 

He throws his hands up. “That’s it. (y/n), we’re getting off of this fucking boat.” 

“I can hear you yelling all the way up deck.” Comes Sirvart’s grumble. “What’s going on down there?” 

“Tell the captain to dock immediately. We’re getting out of here and going back to Westeros!” 

Ducking her head inside, Sirvart’s eyes challenge your brother. “Westeros? You won’t even make it to Westeros with that darkin after (y/n). Even if you did what makes you think Westeros would be best for her? People obviously want her dead over there. Do you really want to take her back to that environment just because you have faith in nothing.” Sirvart easily blocks the way out with her lethal body. “You made a promise to Thalina. Regardless if you believe any of this. Or are you going back on that vow too? Yes, we know of your relationship with your twin sister. Alizah reads the flames as easily as one would read a book. Will you forsake (y/n) again in favor of Cersei?” 

You meet Jaime’s conflicted eyes. In there was the longing to go back. To go back to Cersei. Clashing against his desire to keep you safe and do right by you. Sirvart took the silence as her answer. Craning her head up, she sighs. “We’re almost there. Go ahead and don’t believe us. Know that we only want to keep (y/n) safe. That has always been our goal.” Creaking back up the wooden steps, she leaves the three of you in a heavy quiet. 

Everything sounded insane, too wild to believe. You were supposed to be some sort of warrior reborn. That was the last thing you would ever call yourself. 

With a lowered voice, Alizah says “The darkin is the least of our worries. One day you’ll return to Westeros. When you do you’ll have to face the real threat. You may not be a warrior yet, but give it time.” 

Your head spun and not due to the slight rocking of the boat. It was a lot to take in and so many things were starting to connect. This couldn’t just be a coincidence that your dreams and experiences seemed to match with what Alizah had said. 

Jaime flops onto the floor, head in his hands. “This is crazy. Absolutely crazy.” 

Tenderness makes Alizah’s face look sad. “Yes it is. But that’s life. Crazy and unbelievable at times.” 

Curling into yourself, you close your eyes and try not to think of the mayhem that was to me when you reached Volantis. You had been so excited about reaching the end of your journey. Now though? There was suddenly a high expectation thrust upon you. One that you couldn’t possibly live up to. 

Now you actually wanted to go back to Westeros. To show Rhaegar that you still lived and still loved him. He never expected anything from you. He just wanted you to be happy. 

You didn’t want to be a prophet, or a hero, or Azor Ahai. 

You just wanted to go home. 

“Port up ahead!” The captain’s booming voice traveled easily down below. 

This was it. 

Alizah perked up, excited to be back home. How long had she been waiting in Volon Therys for you? The journey through out Essos had taken you about a year. To be away from your home for so long must have been hard. 

Heading up to the deck you felt immense trepidation. Had this really been a mistake? 

Covering your eyes from the sun you look out to the city of Volantis, ancient yet still standing like a giant. 

Then you heard it. The cheers coming from the dock. No one could mistake it for anything else. 

A large group of people stood waiting. Cheering, for you. They cried out your name. Filling the sunny sky with only your name as your boat drew closer. Men and women crowded one another at a chance to catch a glimpse of you. You and Jaime share a glance of utter astonishment while Alizah clapped her hands together and said something in a language you didn’t know. 

“They come for you.” Sirvart’s smile is wide, finding entertainment in your large, gawking eyes. “You are who we have been waiting for, for thousands of years. Our champion, our Azor Ahai reborn.” 

In Jaime’s eyes, you saw it. The realization of what all this meant. The truth in it all. Someone he had always seen as a little sister. A foolish, naive, girl. . . She was indeed seen as a savior to many. She was someone. Important and immediately adored. 

They cried out in Valyrian, a chanting choir; a hymn that they happened to know by heart. 

“Hen se perzyssy.” From the fires she has risen. 

“Se egros mazemilzi.” The sword she will claim. 

“Ilva kosh bona R’hllor eza kivio.” Our princess that was promised. 

“Azor Ahai sigligon.” 

Azor Ahai reborn.


	9. Part 8

Varys tucked away into his chambers, careful to make sure that he wasn’t followed. 

This was big news. Something that no one was discover until the right time. One of his little birds from Essos had a mouthful to tell him. Jaime and (y/n) were finally in Volantis. 

A great sigh of relief escaped the eunuch as he collapsed into his seat. He hadn’t had a good night’s sleep since (y/n)’s rooms had been engulfed by flames; her maid Thalina burnt to a crisp. 

The poor girl. She had only been doing her duty protecting the youngest Lannister daughter only to be killed by the eldest. Yes, Varys knew that the whole night had been the work of Cersei. Jealousy perhaps drove her to it, Varys didn’t know the trials and battles of sisters, but he saw in Cersei something unforgiving. Thalina knew whatever ill will Cersei bore for her sister, she would die from it as well. She had accepted her fate as was duty for a red priestess. Her sacrifice, above all, was from the genuine love she had for her charge and the years they had spent together. 

_“The time has come.” Thalina warned him days before her actual death. The two foreigners had met up in secret with only the skulls of dragons long dead to hear what they spoke of._

_It was too soon. Varys had come to like Thalina. “Surely you’re mistaken. . .” _

_Smiling sadly, she placed her hand atop of his own. “I am not afraid. You shouldn’t be either. Everything is for her. Remember that. She will save us all.”_

Varys had puckered his lips, wanting to argue and ask her for the thousandth time if she was sure (y/n) was the one. Even back when the young lady was but a child, Thalina had been set in her conviction. 

The way things were going with King Aerys and the war his son was waging, Varys desperately hoped that Thalina was right. 

There was a hidden compartment in the Spider’s room where he kept all his best secrets. He went to it, unearthing a rather large wooden box that Thalina had given to him in the event of her passing and (y/n) making it safely to Volantis. 

_“Why are you trusting me with all these secrets?” Varys had asked when she had handed him the box. Later on he would try to open it to see what lay in there but it was locked up well. _

_“You care not about your own gains much like myself. You care, truly care, of the welfare of Westeros and it’s people. You play games, that is true, but it’s all for the best. You want nothing for yourself. That is why. In the future to come, a most terrible enemy will arise. One that cannot be bought or bribed. I know you’ll do what is right for Westeros. Keep this safe. When the time comes, have one of your little birds deliver it to her.” _

_He eyed the box, tilting it this way and that. It was heavy. Perhaps money for (y/n) to return to Westeros? “What is in here?” _

_All she did in response was wink and put her index finger up to her lips. “That is for (y/n) to discover. I trust you with quite a lot of things, Lord Varys. But not this. This is solely for (y/n)’s eyes.” Her gold eyes sparkled. _

“Oh Thalina. . .” Varys shakes his head, remembering when the house knights had carried her body out of the burnt tower. She had been unrecognizable. Varys knew though. 

He could still hear her voice. 

_“Take it to her.”_

The circumstances surrounding (y/n) Lannister had been quite. . . unusual. Surviving death twice. Not even the strongest knight could say that. 

Still. . . Varys would honor the request of the dead girl and watch what would come from it. 

“I hope you’re right and you didn’t die for nothing.” Whispering to the box, he sets the box down on his desk and retrieves his pen and ink as well as a sheet of parchment. 

Ears pricking at any small sound, Varys knew what the consequence would be if Aerys were to ever find out about his betrayal. Especially since Varys was aiding Rhaegar’s campaign with great discretion from the shadows. Aerys’ empire was crumbling right before the Mad King’s eyes. It needed to be done. For the good of Westers, Aerys had to be ripped from the Iron Throne. Rhaegar had proven at a young age that he would be a kind and just king, much like his ancestor Jaehaerys. Each boy had been sired by incompetent kings. 

Varys purses his lips, pausing his hand in writing as he remembered a conversation he had with the now deceased Rhaella. 

_“They look very similar to Jaehaerys and his little queen Alysanne.”_

He should tell Rhaegar that his queen was alive and well. Knee deep in battle, Varys immediately decided against it knowing that he would receive Rhaegar’s wrath later. Now was not the time. The Silver Prince was using his grief and anger to his advantage. It was proving useful in battle. Perhaps it was cruel of Varys to keep it a secret. If Rhaegar knew though, he might want to leave and look for her. They couldn’t have that. His army was so close to knocking Aerys off the board. There were whispers of certain Crownland houses wanting to flee to Rhaegar’s side. After his success in the Reach, there were already a handful of houses that instantly bent the knee to Rhaegar and swore fealty. When all was done he would tell Rhaegar. Right now his focus must remain in Westeros. (y/n) was safe in the Red Temple. Safe from violence and blood. 

Finishing off his letter, Varys sealed it with gold wax; pressing his signet into it. He stashed the folded piece of paper in his sleeve and picked up the wooden chest. He had to choose his bird carefully, the one that would deliver it to Essos. Who could he trust to deliver something of the utmost importance? 

Moving through the secret passages much like a spider scuttling around unseen, Varys debated who the trust should go to. Barristan Selmy. 

The seasoned knight would have been perfect. Already wary of Aerys’ behavior, Varys knew that deep down Selmy wanted to join Rhaegar. His loyalty to his vows prevented him from doing so. He had ties though. Being the best knight in all of Westeros garnered him close knit ties to other houses as they admired him. Specifically Ashara Dayne, the wickedly clever violet eyed sister of Arthur Dayne. 

It was a chance Varys had to take. Selmy wanted what was best for the kingdom as well. Perhaps he wouldn’t outright join the war, but if it was for the poor little queen whom everyone thought to be dead, Selmy would do it. Someone as innocent as (y/n) would surely pull at his heart strings. It would help that a great handful of people already thought that it was Aerys who killed (y/n), adding to his madness. Justice for (y/n) would be enough to get Barristan Selmy to deliver the items.  
  
  
  


“You’re sure about this?” Barristan eyes the Spider warily. With a nod from the eunuch, Barristan goes on to ask “Does anyone else know?” 

“Just the two of us. And I intend to keep it that way until Rhaegar is on the throne.” informed Varys. He kept his hands clasped in front of him, heavy sunflower yellow sleeves covering them. “I would use one of my other birds, but this information is of a delicate nature. This must make it safely to (y/n). Whatever is in the chest. . . it will aid her in the future. At least that was what I was told.” 

“You don’t know what’s inside here?” 

“Afraid not. There must be a special way to open it, one that I do not know of.” 

Wisened eyes glance up at the bald-headed eunuch, weighing his options and what this all truly meant. Barristan didn’t know (y/n) that well when she lived in the Keep, but he did know her brother Jaime and of course her husband Rhaegar. Both men with admirable skill. Selmy had always encouraged Jaime that if he kept at his training that maybe one day he could reach the level of Captain of the King’s Guard. The young Lannister knight had disappeared the very night of that terrible fire. Unfortunately for the Guard to lose a promising knight. According to Varys though, Jaime was with his sister; protecting her and keeping her safe. Still abiding the vows he took for (y/n) was technically royalty; married to the Crown Prince of Westeros. 

“How do you expect me to get this to Volantis? I can’t exactly leave the Red Keep unless Aerys does.” 

That’s when Varys smiled. It wasn’t a malicious smile nor a conniving one. There was a comforting warmth and an unspoken thank you. “I can work out the details.” Barristan sighs. Doing this wouldn’t exactly be treasonous. He was helping the princess and his own Kingsguard brother. 

“One of the details does include Lady Ashara Dayne.” Slyly putting that in, Varys watches as Barristan immediately becomes flustered at the thought of the maid with laughing eyes. 

“I suppose. . . If you’re able to convince Aerys of letting me take leave for a while. . .” 

“Good then!” Handing over the note intended for (y/n) upon arrival, Varys nods. A little hesitant to leave Selmy with such a large task, Varys pauses. The fire that had been in Thalina’s eyes as she put her trust into him was brought up. Hardly anyone trusted him and for good reason. Laying traps and spreading whispers weren’t entirely trustworthy things even if Varys vied that it was for the good of the Seven Kingdoms. Thalina was insistent that the survival of (y/n) would ultimately save Westeros. 

“Take great care in the items I have left you, Ser Selmy. It was the demand of a dying girl that it safely make it to (y/n).” 

Barristan saw the genuine concern on his face. It had to be important if the Master of Whispers held such worry. “You can trust me, Lord Varys.” 

“I hope so.”  
**  
  


Tyrion hadn’t been the same since the death of his sister. Everyone in Casterly Rock saw that clearly as the boy suddenly became silent; not speaking, instead choosing to gaze at people with his solemn mismatched eyes. BAd enough that his beloved sister, a sister who had always loved him unconditionally, was burned to death, then his brother went missing. The only two people who truly cared about him were gone. 

His life at home had become intolerable. Every day was bleak knowing that he would never see Jaime or (y/n) ever again. Tyrion was alone. Hoarding himself in the library to occupy his waking moments. What else was there for a dwarf to do? 

He wondered what would happen when the time came for Tywin to name the next Warden in the West. Tyrion knew that his father would never grant him the title as ‘lord’. That was fine. Tyrion didn’t want to be a stupid lord. He saw what it did to his father, a man with no joy in his life. There was more in life and Tyrion wanted to see it all. 

A young child still, there was nothing Tyrion could do in the meantime. A child and a dwarf at that. (y/n) never wanted him to limit himself due to his condition though. She wanted him to live as any normal child did. 

Tyrion stared at the heavy tome placed on his small laps. The printed words blur together as his thoughts steered away. 

He missed them both. Wherever Jaime was, Tyrion hoped he returned safely. Since his absence, Cersei had been quite melancholy herself, not even having the energy to talk down to him. She thoroughly ignored him whenever they bumped into one another and preferred to take her dinner in her room now. That was all fine for Tyrion. What he couldn’t ignore was what he overheard one day passing by the usually empty council chambers. Tywin preferred to do his plotting in his own personal studies. He had found it strange when he heard the slightest whisper of voices come from the other side. Specifically the voice of his sister. 

_“I’ll throw in extra if you return my brother to me, alive.”_ Her tone had been gravely serious as she spoke and Tyrion could only imagine the terrifying expression on her face. 

A man had replied back smoothly _“It will be done, Your Grace.”_

Not wanting to be caught eavesdropping, Tyrion had quickly retreated back where he had come from. 

He thought a lot about what he had heard. The way Cersei spoke made it sound like she knew where Jaime was. For some reason it made him nervous. Tyrion obviously wasn’t supposed to have heard any of that. 

There was a lot that he probably shouldn’t have known. Like Tywin’s betrayal as he secretly aided Rhaegar in this war. It didn’t surprise him though. Tywin would go over to whoever he knew was going to win. That was how one lived so long in this kind of world. 

Abruptly he slams his book shut, growing bored and more concerned with his own thoughts now. There was a bigger world outside of his library. Bigger and more interesting. Staying cooped up in his gilded cage would serve him no purpose. (y/n) and Jaime both had taken the first opportunity that came to escape Tywin’s household. Tyrion would do the same. Especially now that he knew Jaime might be alive. 

He would make (y/n) proud and become someone to be admired like the knights he had been reading about. 

Now that his mind was made up, Tyrion left the library and went to his rooms’ empty of any guards or maids. 

Perfect. It would make his escape that much easier. No one would miss him and for once Tyrion was happy about that. There was no one left at the Rock whom he cared about. Dead and missing. 

Packing a travel bag, Tyrion thought of the essentials he would need in order to make it to Rhaegar’s camp. Having already snuck into Tywin’s study to read over his letters, Tyrion already knew the whereabouts of the Silver Dragon Army (as people had been referring to Rhaegar’s army). The journey would be quite a long one, especially for an eight year old. But Tyrion had determination in his heart. He didn’t want to continue his young life quiet and sad, unable to leave the castle even though no one in there truly cared for him. Taking a page from his older siblings and take his life into his own hands. 

Of course Tyrion was scared about going out into a big world all by himself. There would be no one with him until he reached Rhaegar. If he kept off the main roads though he shouldn’t run into too much trouble. Tyrion had learned how to read maps at the age of three and knew the different types of flora and fauna in Westeros. He may not be strong yet, but he was smart. That’s what happened when one was left to their own devices. What else was there to do but read. He would finally be utilizing his vast knowledge. This would be his real test. Far more than anything the maesters could muster up. 

Tyrion was ready for it. A lion of Casterly Rock felt no fear and never backed down from a challenge. 

Briefly, he prays to the Crone and the Warrior to keep him safe. Above all things through, he wanted (y/n) to hear his prayers so that she may protect him as well. As she always had.


	10. Part 9

Out of the window of your room, you stared at the calm water below. Opening it, the breeze tickled your face and sweeping one leg then the other, you sat on the edge; feet dangling freely and bumping against the stone of the Red Temple. Ships of all sizes were scattered across the water and you wondered if maybe one of those ships were traveling to Westeros. Sails fluttered gently in reply to the steady wind’s caress. 

After having bathed and eaten your body was finally relaxed even though you surmised there was more to come. At least they would give you a moment to breathe. Before your world changed even more. 

Even with learning what the worshippers of R’hllor believed you to be you still didn’t feel any different. The way everyone looked at you though. . . They didn’t see you as the young girl you still felt like. You were so much more to them and it scared you. If what they all said was true, then there were thousands of people putting their complete faith into you. What if you let them down? What if you didn’t amount to their hopes and dreams and instead disappointed them severely. Instead they would look at you the way your father did. Those cold, unfeeling and unforgiving eyes that would turn anyone to stone. 

Caws of seagulls echoed from the background as they drifted above the sea. Fear and doubt rang loudly in your head. Someone like you wasn’t meant to be an important figure. You would admit that it felt nice when people cheered for you. They didn’t know you though. Not personally. They didn’t know how you should be the last person to be a savior of anything. Sure, you knew the basics of sword fighting but you were still nowhere as skilled as Jaime. 

“Thalina, what have you gotten me into?” You smile sadly and shake your head. She wasn’t there to reassure you.  
**  
  


They had separated Jaime from (y/n) the moment they passed the threshold of the temple doors. She was taken to be cleaned and fed while Jaime in a different direction despite his loud protests. Servants with brands upon their cheeks took him down to a basement hot spring where he was expected to bathe. All the while Jaime kept asking where his sister had been taken. Neither of the three servants replied and then it dawned on him that they may not speak the Common Tongue. Jaime’s Valyrian was very poor as he cared not for the study when he was younger. He dared not try to speak it, envying his younger siblings for their Valyrian vocabulary. Forced to be quiet and bathe, worry pulsed through him. Was (y/n) okay? 

Azor Ahai reborn. 

The notion was ridiculous. It was hard to deny it though when faced with a horde of people cheering and crying just for her. 

Outstretched hands begging for just one touch from their hero. For the meek little mouse of Casterly Rock. For his (y/n). His sister who had grown into a lovely young lady under the care of Rhaegar Targaryen. Someone who he hadn’t looked twice at before due to his love for Cersei. In their childhood (y/n) had been a dull, quiet little girl who could never look anyone in the eye for more than a second. An annoying hanger-on, that’s what Jaime used to think. The day she left for Dragonstone, Jaime could hardly muster up any sadness at her departure. Her existence had meant little to him, having only tolerated her since she was his sister. That’s not to say that he was cruel to her like Cersei had been. He might as well have been though. A bystander that did nothing to stop his twin from the things she did.

(y/n) had slipped his mind for years until the fateful day she returned to King’s Landing. A pearl that had been excavated from an oyster’s shell. Shiny and lovely. Eyes that had once been a muddy green hue were now glossy and bright as spring moss. Dragonstone had turned her into a respectable lady. Baby fat was still fresh on her cheeks but that added to the purity of her appearance. A maiden in full bloom that had immediately stolen Jaime’s heart. The change was evident in her as she had held his gaze with a confident smile. Confidence suited her.

The very same person was now some kind of. . . Jaime didn’t quite know what to call it. Prophet seemed to suit the term he was 

“Jaime Lannister?” 

Immediately on the defense, Jaime whips around in the steaming bath, eying the older man in question. A little on the portly side, this man definitely did not have an intimidating appearance. Far from it,his pale blonde hair was thinning and streaked with gray. Smile lines were etched deeply onto his tan face. Kind, honey eyes crinkle as he finally situates himself on the hard stone floor of the basement bathhouse. 

“Didn’t mean to startle you.” He chuckles. “I am Nuahlin, a red priest in this beautiful establishment.” Some of the words he spoke sounded weird on his tongue indicating that the Common language wasn’t his first. Not quick to trust anyone, Jaime stays on guard; cursing that he was naked and without a weapon. He clenches his fists, glancing at the handmaids that stood quietly by the doorway. “Where’s my sister?” 

“You’ll see her soon enough. At the moment I believe she has just gotten out of her own bath and served supper.” Nuahlin assures the Westerosi knight. “However, there are important matters in which I need to discuss with you. Sirvart has told me of your reaction about the truth of your sister. Understandable that you would be in denial. It’s quite a shock, neh?” 

“Something like that.” muttered Jaime. “Look, what do you plan on doing with her?” 

“Nothing that she doesn’t want. You and your sister are free to leave whenever you want. We just want to make sure that she is prepared for when the Long Night arrives. It happened during what you call your Age of Heroes in Westeros. It will come again and when it does, your sister will lead humanity to victory as Azor Ahai once did. To speak truthfully, I did not believe Thalina when she saw your sister in her vision of flames. Having seen her now, in person, well. . . It’s still very hard to believe that that sweet girl has anything to do with the prophecy. Alizah has faith though, that she can see the Warrior inside of (y/n). Faith is a funny thing. Most times you just have to follow what your gut feels and not the overthinking of your head.” 

“She couldn’t hurt a fly.” Quickly insisting, the words of Nuahlin sinking in. 

The smile that had been on the red priest’s face turned sad. “Not willingly. We hope to train her and get her ready for when the time comes.” 

Sinking deeper into the water, Jaime closes his eyes. “I don’t want her getting hurt.” 

“That’s why I come to you, Ser Jaime. Who better to help her than her knightly brother? I want you to train with our Fiery Hand.” 

“What?” 

“They’re the guards of our temple and the soldiers of our belief.” explains Nuahlin. “They will serve your sister greatly.” 

A little slighted, Jaime narrows his eyes. “I already know how to fight. I don’t need anyone to teach me anything.” 

Nuahlin chuckles, holding his hands up in defense. “I meant no offense. I have no doubt that you are skilled in Westerosi fighting. But we do things differently here in Essos. It wouldn’t hurt to acquire another skill.” 

What was there that they had to offer? The men Jaime had fought already in Essos seemed like nothing special. He had easily cut them down within seconds. 

With difficulty, Nuahlin gets back up on his feet. “Give it some thought. Let me know when you decide. Oh, and welcome to Volantis.”  
  
  
  
  


The clothes were too loose on Jaime, hanging off of him and swallowing up his frame. The robes much resembled the one that Nuahlin wore. A vibrant red trimmed with orange and gold. Not the usual color Jaime would have normally worn, but at least the colors were much familiar with those of the Lannister house. 

Several times Jaime had tried to roll up his sleeves, but it was useless. 

“It’s the normal fashion here in the temple.” Came Sirvart’s voice as she joined Jaime’s group as they traveled down the corridor. Underneath her own red robe, she wore a dark leather jerkin and a cream colored shirt. “Even those in the Fiery hand wear them when they fight.” 

Scoffing, Jaime lets his arms fall to his side. “How do they even fight in this get up? That just seems impossible.” 

“Haven’t you learned anything, Golden Boy? Nothing in this world is impossible.” she reminded him with a crooked smile on her red lips. Choosing to ignore her smugness, Jaime asks “Where are they taking me?” 

“To meet the high priest. You can get rid of that expression. Rest assured (y/n) will be there.” 

“Any words of advice?” 

Hazel eyes flick over to Jaime. Now that she was back home, there was a certain carefreeness on her face. She must have been happy to be back. It made him miss Westeros, the familiarity of the terrain and language; of the people and rules. Even though Volon Therys was just across the river, who knew how long she had been there waiting. “You need not be so suspicious. We just want the best for (y/n). Honestly. Over the time she served her, Thalina sent us letters. Of her growth and personality, what she learned and what she feared. We may not personally know her, but we all care for her.” 

“Because you think she’s a reincarnation of your savior.” Pointing out, Jaime notices the three hand maids that had been attending him were whispering amongst each other. One caught his gaze and immediately quieted. 

“We don’t think, we know. Yes, she seems like the most unlikely person, but it's often the unlikely ones that make a mark on this world.” 

Taking a turn around the corner leads them to a great set of doors which Sirvart strode up to. On either side of the door were guards in red robes and flames tattooed on their cheeks. Both men held serious expressions, regarding Jaime with obvious caution. One of them speaks to Sirvart in a foreign tongue. 

Instead of Sirvart answering, a hand maid speaks up. Dark kohl under her eyes makes the iris color pop. Her hair was cut short to the scalp and glowed a reddish-brown hue. The guard who had spoken glances at Jaime before nodding, saying something briefly to Sirvart before allowing her to open the door. 

“What was that about?” Jaime quickly asks. 

Sirvart nonchalantly shrugs and motions him inside. “They don’t like the way you look.” 

Frowning, Jaime bit his tongue and reluctantly let it slide as he entered the chapel. A vaulted ceiling made every small noise echo. At the back of the chapel was a giant metal torch blazing with bright flames of a fire. A tapestry hung on the stone wall, etched on the red fabric was a heart with a ring of yellow flames atop of it like a crown. (y/n) was already there and smiled immediately at the sight of Jaime, relief so clear on her face. The blind girl known as Alizah stood next to her along with an unknown man who watched the siblings carefully. 

Freshly bathed, (y/n)’s hair glowed, pulled back into decorative braids, her face free of any dirt although still tan from the amount of sun she had received during their journey. Unlike the other ladies in the chapel, (y/n) lacked a red robe. Instead she was decked in a light pink gown and lacked a robe. Her under linens were a scarlet red which bled past the gentle pink. The trim on her dress were soft shades of orange and yellow. Perfectly suiting her bright demeanor as she floats over to Jaime. 

She was a sight to behold and Jaime nearly forgot himself as he took her arms. 

“Nice robes.” (y/n) commented. 

“Thought you’d be wearing similar attire.” replied Jaime in a breathy voice. In such a beautiful dress, she almost reminded him of Cersei. Almost. It outlined her shape perfectly, emphasizing the curvature of her waist and hips. During their ocean travel, (y/n) had been sickly thin. Now, she was healthy and radiant. 

“Ah, the brother has joined us.” Smiles the man. He must have been around the same age as Nuahlin, perhaps older as Jaime saw the deep set wrinkles on the man’s face. “We thank you for bringing (y/n) safely to us. We know it must not have been an easy task.” 

“Save it.” Jaime was quick to snap. Both siblings had been through so much. The last thing he wanted was faux friendliness. He just wanted answers. “Just tell us what we want to know and what this whole Azor Ahai thing is about.” 

(y/n) purses her lips, nervous eyes turning to the older man that held his patience. 

A swift kick to his shin made Jaime hiss and lose balance. He glowers at Sirvart who mirrored his heat. “Watch your tongue. This is our High Priest Benerro. He deserves more respect than that.” 

Benerro chuckles and shakes his head. “Easy there Sirvart. No need for roughness here. It’s understandable that they want answers. And answers they shall receive, although I doubt they’ll be to Ser Lannister’s liking. He might not even be happy with what we have to say.” 

There’s a certain agitation on (y/n)’s face, her own patience waning thin. It was always hard to read (y/n). With Cersei it came so easily, but his younger sister knew how to suppress her thoughts and feelings well. Jaime didn’t possess the same telepathy he had with his twin. (y/n) always had him guessing. 

The thin High Priest moves toward the massive torch. Hands and arms spread wide as if he were ready to embrace the fire. “The way the world is made. The truth is all around you, plain to behold. The night is dark and full of terrors, the day bright and beautiful and full of hope. One is black, the other white. There is ice and there is fire. Hate and love. Bitter and sweet. Male and female. Pain and pleasure. Winter and summer. Evil and good.” Turning his tattooed face back to those in his presence. His words haunted Jaime. And gesturing to (y/n), Benerro grins. “Death and life. Everywhere opposites. Everywhere, the war.” 

(y/n) shrinks away slightly, gaze darting to the fire and momentarily it holds her attention. 

“Come closer.” Benerro beckons. Hands held over the fire, unafraid of the sting. “You see something don’t you? What do you see?” 

Hesitant and looking to her brother for help, there was nothing Jaime could do. Equally unsure and afraid of what this man preached. Fear. . . that was something new to Jaime. Never had he felt fear like this. He was his mother’s courageous lion, his father’s perfect heir. Neither of those felt fear. 

He feared for (y/n). The immense weight that was suddenly slammed on her tiny shoulders. Unready and wobbling from the heaviness of the situation. 

Clearly having been nervous a few moments ago, the longer she stared the more relaxed her frame became as the fire drew her in. “I see a field. A field with tall wheat grass. I think. . . there are soldiers on the field with many banners and-” A sharp inhale from (y/n) has Jaime twitching, ready to protect her but Sirvart kept him at bay with an outstretched arm. 

(y/n) scowled, unsure of herself as she whispers “And a dragon. In the sky.” 

This made Benerro grin widely as he threw his arms open once again. “She can read the flames! And what a vivid description indeed. Soldiers and dragons in the near future. Yes, I can see it. Dragons are part of the key to stopping the Long Night and destroying the Others for good.” Noticing how his words only made (y/n) even more scared, Benerro takes it down a notch. “Neither of you should be scared about this. There is nothing to fear.” Old eyes flick over to Jaime. “Especially you. You worry for her. That she will be hurt. In life its always possible for hurt to come in all shapes and sizes. That’s why she needs her brother by her side. As many allies as she can get.” 

Jaime stared at his sister. This young woman that had been small and insignificant for most of her life. There she was, standing before a raging torch overflowing with orange flames that seemed to lick at her back. In that image, Jaime finally saw what everyone else did. Albeit it was still unbelievable. There were plenty of unbelievable things that had happened to (y/n) though. Even before she had been born, in Joanna’s womb their mother somehow knew that one day (y/n) would be someone of importance. No, she had never been insignificant. She had always been someone extraordinary. Jaime had just been too blind and stupid to see it before. 

Next to him, Sirvart smiled. Not smuggly, but in relief that it finally clicked in. 

If Jaime had had his sword in his possession, he would have knelt down on the floor and laid it out before (y/n); symbolizing his loyalty and fealty. All he could do was stare in awe.


	11. Part 10

The training grounds at the Red Temple was fixed underneath the intense Volantis sun, making you already sweat when you stepped foot onto the grounds. From cobblestones, your boots met with fine powdery dirt. Soft enough so that when someone was thrown onto the ground they wouldn’t get too hurt. There were a dozen men already training, focused and intent. It was all intimidating to you, someone who had only been trained by your brother. 

Beside you, Jaime is fitfully fussing around with his red robes, cursing as it kept falling off of him. You had tied a leather belt around your waist to fix your robe close to your body and rolled up the sleeves with the help of one of the red priestesses. They secured it with a pin, guaranteeing that it would not come undone. You realize many of the men out there wore it in the same fashion as you did. 

With a huff, Jaime removes the scarlet garb and wraps it around his waist. “There. It’s finally out of the way. Ridiculous.” His bare shoulders were tanned, speckled with freckles given to him by the sun. You saw the excitement in his eyes though at so many swords being brandished. This was his environment, his area of expertise. He grins and takes a deep breath. The training grounds led out to a cliff that overlooked the blanket of rich blue seawater. 

“Tch, I told you to fasten it the way your sister did.” Sirvart clicks her tongue, strutting out to the other side of you. “Now you look sloppy.” 

“Leave me alone.” Jaime scowls at her, gesturing to the robe that was wrapped around him. “I’m wearing it, aren’t I? Don’t know why it’s so important.” 

Her hazel eyes stare your brother down. “You don’t mess with traditions, Golden Boy.” With her mass of curly black hair pulled up you noticed the back of her neck there was a tattoo of gold that contrasted greatly with her dark skin. Along with scars on her upper arms. When she flicks her gaze to you, you immediately look away; shy that you had been staring. 

A roll of his green eyes, Jaime palms at his sword which he was given back. “Traditions. . . You know in Westeros, our soldiers wear metal and chainmail so we don’t get wounded. What prevents your Fiery Hands from being hurt? Unless those robes of theirs have some kind of magical property.” 

She crosses her arms and smiles. “They don’t need metal. They can protect themselves.” 

“Ah! There you are!” Nuahlin, who had previously been sitting on a bench, smiles and places his hands on his knees to assist in helping him up. He beckons to someone on the field before making his way over to your trio. Such an older man looked out of place there. 

He had such a kind face though with deep laugh marks. Honey eyes making you feel at ease. 

Once in front of you he bows and gently takes your hands in his. “It is an honor to meet you, Princess (y/n).” 

“Oh no.” You blush and try to correct him. “I’m not a princess, ser.” 

It only makes him chuckle. “And I am no ser. At least in the Westerosi aspect. You are still married to Rhaegar Targaryen. Your title as Princess stays.” 

Everyone in Westeros thought you were dead. Including Rhaegar. No one had any idea that you were very much alive. 

Coming from behind him is a tall, olive toned man who has his dreadlocks pulled up into a high ponytail. Flames were etched onto his cheeks as he looked down at you and your brother. He appeared unimpressed at who was presented before him. Your brother, with his robe around him and an orange tunic, and then you. Sweet, unimposing, you with your hair pulled out of your face and your shy stance. 

“Weles,” Nuahlin nods at the man and then gestures to you and Jaime. “These two will be your new students. Princess (y/n), our champion reborn, and her knightly brother Ser Jaime. And this is Weles. The captain of our Fiery Hand.” 

Weles takes a knee to the ground in front of you, bowing his head deeply. “An honor, Ñuha kosh. Use the Fiery Hand however you please. We are here to serve you.” 

Immediately a blush rises on your face and butterflies react at well to this chivalrous gentleman. “I. . . uh. . . Thank you.” It was still awkward being spoken to in such a revered manner. After the events of yesterday with High Priest Benerro you were still trying to come to terms with the big change in your life. Still reeling from the fact that you, the Mouse of Casterly Rock, was Azor Ahai reborn; someone who would one day stop evil and bring peace to the world. 

Thinking about it made your anxiety stir, but you took a deep breath. You would deal with it later. 

He stands up and glances at your brother. "You are the boy knight that Nuahlin has told me about." 

Flushed, Jaime snarls. “Boy?” 

"Oi, Weles, that's not right. He's just a very handsome man." Sirvart comes to Jamie's defense. 

Weles sheakes his head. "I don't see a scar on you. 

"That just means I've never been defeated." Retorts Jaime bitterly and near ready to take on Weles with his sword. 

Before things could escalate, Nuahlin calms the air. “Now, now. That doesn’t matter. What matters is that these two are here to train. To become skilled at the art of swordsmanship.” 

“(y/n) knows the fundamentals of sword fighting.” Sirvart informs him. “She has the bare bones of it, but her skill needs to be fleshed out. The Golden Boy is her sworn sword. He may not look it, but he was competent enough to protect her all the way from Westeros to Volantis. There is still much he could learn from you.” 

You supposed Jaime should have taken that as a compliment. A rather insulting compliment, but at least she called him competent. 

A finger to his chin, Weles walks around you and Jaime; sizing the two of you up. In front of you once more, he beckons you forward. “Ñuha kosh, let me see what you have learned under your brother’s tutelage.” 

Ñuha kosh. . . My Champion. 

Sweat built up on your palms as you step up and reach for your sword. You had never sparred with anyone else but Jaime. This man was bigger than Jaime by far. Both height and muscle wise. The racing of your heart did little to comfort you as you faced off with Weles. There was a sword attached to his back that he didn’t reach for. Instead he grabbed the pommel of one hanging off of his hip. You readied yourself in a strong stance, like your brother had told you to do. Watch and wait and anticipate. One hand on top of the other and steadying your breath, it all seemed so fast. Weles charging at you, you meeting him with your blade ready; the singing aria of metal against metal. The vibration from the encounter had your bones trembling inside of you. It nearly sent you off of your feet, but you maintained balance by swiftly shuffling to the side and reestablishing your feet on the ground. Your back bends as he abruptly swings at you. Recovering, you lunge and strike at his sword. He’s amazing with his blade though and before you knew it, Weles has pushed you back and cut off your balance. Making you land on your butt. The dirt did well to cushion the fall. 

A hand is held out to you. “There is much improvement to be done, but you are very fast on your feet and you know how to at least not get killed.” 

Helping you up to your feet, you could feel his calluses against your soft hands. Of course you wouldn’t have lasted long against him. He had probably been training for years. You? Mere months. 

“Now, for the brother.” 

Jaime already had his sword out and was gently pushing you aside. 

“Don’t hurt him too much, Weles.” Sirvart calls out. She’s sitting on the cobblestone ground, arms wrapped around her legs as she enjoys sparring. The other members of the Fiery Hand had stopped in their training and were watching as well. More had gathered in the training grounds while you were sparring with Weles. Tattooed faces peering with unadulterated curiousity. Watching as their captain took on the infamous knight of Westeros. The Golden Lannister Lion. 

For once, Nuahlin wasn’t smiling. His face was stern and observant. Those eyes that had been so comforting to you were now expressionless as he watched Weles and Jaime like a hawk. 

You already knew that it wouldn’t be good for Jaime. His cocky attitude always got him in trouble. He was the first to charge at Weles. 

For such a big frame, Weles moved soundlessly around your brother. Almost as if he were mocking Jaime with each featherlight step. Weles slapped the flat side of his sword against the length of Jaime’s broad back, making him stumble. To his credit, Jaime recovered just as fast and twirled to face his opponent once more. Just in time to catch Weles’ sword. Another piercing sting as they met. Sliding with a screech, Jaime broke away, dislodging their blades. 

Holding your breath with each strike and parry, you couldn’t look away. Adrenaline thrilled through you as your brother effortlessly dodged Weles’ swing. 

It was easy to forget sometimes that your own big brother had once been in the King’s Guard. The youngest inductee. Someone who at such a young age was rising quickly through the rinks. For one to do that, they had to be strong and brilliant in their tactical movement. You had never really witnessed Jaime’s skill to this extent. For the most part he had tried to shield you from how violent he could be when in a fight. Even in King’s Landing you never saw him fight like this. 

That just meant that Weles was just as magnificent if he could keep up with Jaime. Even having had the upper hand a few times when he managed to make Jaime stumble. 

Each stumble was costing Jaime as they were adding up. Weles was simply too. . . fluid with his fighting. Evading the edge of the sword and throwing him an even stronger lunge. Jaime always survived each one from the skin of his teeth. Close. Always too close. 

_ Mother-_ You think to yourself _\- Please protect him._

Surely by now, Weles could have gauged his ability and end it. 

It wasn’t the flying lunge that ended it, but the weapon that had been strapped to his back. A curved blade; not quite a sickle nor a sword. In a blink of an eye, he immediately unarmed Jaime, sending his sword into the dirt. 

“Not bad, Ser Lannister.” with a crooked grin Weles puts his arms down. Only a light sheen of sweat could be seen on his forehead and illuminated on his cheek tattoos. 

Jaime stares at the curved blade in a mix of awe and disappointment. “I was wondering when you were going to use it. Your hidden weapon.” 

“Everyone here in the Fiery Hand knows how to use these blades simultaneously. Ideas inspired by the Dothraki of the Grass Sea. And you will learn too.” Putting away his weapons, Weles seems a little more friendlier. Only a little. “Welcome to the Fiery Hand, Princess (y/n) Targaryen and Ser Jaime Lannister.”  
  
  
  
  


With the sun making it’s slow descent over the horizon, you and Jaime stole away to the cliff where the training ground was. The both of you practicing what you had learned that day and Jaime explaining the techniques that you didn’t quite understand. As good of a teacher Weles was, you still liked nothing more than you and your brother sparring. 

By the time you and Jamie were done, your surroundings had already become pitch black; the stars as little points of light in the sky. Laying on a patch of grass, your focus was turned to the many stars. You were tired, but the good kind of tired where you knew you would have a good night’s sleep. The soreness that you would feel tomorrow would be future-(y/n)’s problem. 

“You know, Tyrion told me a long time ago that stars are just balls of gas far, far away.” whispers Jaime, his hands behind his head providing him another cushion. 

“Really? Where’d he learn that?” 

“Some astronomy book in the library. It’s his favorite place in Casterly Rock. Hell if I know. He’s probably right. Kid is smart. If only father. . .” He grew quiet. You knew Jaime didn’t like speaking ill of Tywin. He hadn’t been a great father, but at least he treated Jaime better than he did the rest of you. “Tyrion would make such a great Lord of Casterly Rock. Better than I would ever be.” 

Tyrion would never be given the chance though. As long as Tywin ruled with an iron fist. “I hope he’s doing okay. He’s all alone now. You know how father and Cersei treat him. We were the only ones who cared about him. He’s so young.” 

“He’s young but he’s incredibly smart. He’s more mature than we all are. You still see him as your baby brother, but I know him as a very capable young boy.” 

A cloud passed by here and there, supported by the gentle breeze of the night. 

“You’re right. I should know better than to underestimate him. I just miss him.” 

“Me too. He would’ve had fun with us.” You hear the chuckle in his voice and it makes you beam. This was the Jamie you had gotten to know during your trip. Witty and even funny at times. You saw the enthusiasm in his eyes when he spoke passionately about something or was telling you a story from his King’s Guard days. 

Wait until you told him about your journey. That is, if you ever saw him again. Who knew how long you’d have to stay in Essos. Maybe they wouldn’t let you leave when it actually came down to it. 

The grass around Jaime moves as he squirms in his spot. “How are you doing? You looked pretty freaked out yesterday.” 

You let out a dry laugh. “Yeah. I was terrified. You know how crazy all of this is?” No one had ever expected this much from you. Not once in your life were you expected to amount to much. And now, bam. You were Pōja Kosh, Their Champion. “I don’t know. I don’t know about all of this Jaime. Even with all the sword fighting, how can I defeat the Great Other?” 

“Great Other?” 

“That’s what they call an evil god of darkness who wages eternal war against their god R'hllor. The Great Other brings forth undead soldiers known as the Others.” You had been reading some transcripts that a red priestess known as Inanna had left in your chambers. She explained that they were from the archives and that they would be of use to you. You wanted to better understand what your role was supposed to be. 

“Fuck. I wonder what that’s going to be like. Fighting the undead. How tough could they be? They’re dead for a reason.” 

Rolling onto your side to face him, you grab onto his sleeve gently so that maybe he wouldn’t notice how scared you were. “Will you be there with me when it happens?” 

“What kind of stupid question. . .” He trailed off once he caught a look at your face. “. . . Of course. Of course I’ll be there with you. You heard Sirvart. I’m your sworn sword. My steel is your’s, my lady. As is my very last breath.” 

“Oh, what a knight in shining armor you are!” You tease and throw your forearm across your forehead in a dramatic manner. 

Jaime shoves you lightly. “Shut up. I was being serious." 

Looking back up to the stars, you hide your smile from your brother. A content and blissful smile that you hadn't had in quite a while. "I know." If felt good to know that for once, Jaime would be by your side through thick and thin. He was your sword and shield. You finally had a big brother.


	12. Part 11

Barristan Selmy had to be careful as he made his way to Starfall. He knew that he would have to evade Rhaegar’s army on the way since he had to pass through the Reach and Stormlands. Not wanting to get caught up in any fights, Barristan moved fast and hidden by shrubbery and woods. He would’ve liked to see Prince Rhaegar in all honesty. But Varys had made it clear that this mission was of the utmost importance and had to be done immediately. Varys informed Selmy that he would tell Aerys that the King’s Guard knight was scouting around Rhaegar’s camps in the south and would send information to them about the enemy. 

There was still confliction inside of him though. Conflicted because something about this didn’t feel right. He left the Guard to send a missive and a mysterious box to Rhaegar’s supposedly dead bride. He wasn’t even allowed to tell Rhaegar that the sweet girl he had taken as his queen was still alive in Volantis. 

Deciding to take a rest, Barristan pulls his horse over and dismounts; leading her off the main road and back into the covered woods where the terrain was a little more difficult to travel through. The horse gave an annoyed snort and appeared hesitant on entering. With gentle coaxing though, he was able to make her relax and follow. Barristan could hear a nearby stream, possibly a sublet of the Mander River. From the path he had been on previously, he knew he would ultimately hit Tumbleton if he kept following it. He wanted to stay unseen for the most part of his journey. 

Finding a nice tree to sit underneath and let his horse graze, Barristan retrieves his map and scans it. Clicking his teeth here and there. There was still a long way to go before he even reached Dorne. Leaning his back against the sturdy trunk, Selmy closes his tired eyes. He had ridden all night to get to where he was, it didn’t seem like much. Already in his late 40’s, Selmy was starting to realize that he couldn’t travel the way he used to when he was younger. His age was starting to catch up on him. 

Unconsciously, his hand bumps against his travel sack which Varys’ mystery box lay hidden. Opening his eyes, he glances at the burlap bag. It was out of pure curiosity that he wanted to fiddle with the box to see if he could open. Varys claimed that he hadn’t been able to find a way. What could be in there that would aid (y/n)? What aid did she need exactly and for what? 

Guess I’ll figure out when I get to Volantis. Selmy thinks to himself before remembering the first part of his task. Make it to Dorne. To Ashara Dayne in Starfall. Starfall was the perfect place to set sail to Essos. From there, the Summer Sea would grant them a straight passage to Volantis. Granting if the waters would be kind to them. 

Out of nowhere there’s the sound of a scuffle, of a fight. Instinct had Selmy jumping onto his feet and grabbing his sword as his ears strained to figure out which direction it came from. 

“Stay away from me!” Came the warning yell of a childish voice. 

A cruel laugh replies “What do you think you’re going to do to us with that little dagger, dwarf?” 

The sound of a sword swing and a surprised yelp. Whoever was being attacked was definitely a child. An unfair fight. Being the man that he was, Barristan heads to the direction of the struggle to find two men harassing a very small, oddly shaped, child. Nothing but basic thugs. There were many of them scattered throughout deserted woods of Westeros, waiting for the right victim. 

They heard him coming, but that was alright. That wouldn’t give them the upper hand. 

When the child lifted his face though. . . 

He knew that face. 

It was Tyrion Lannister  
  
  


“What in the Mother’s name are you doing so far away from home?” Not taking the older knight long to dispatch the other men, Barristan took Tyrion back to camp. “And did you really think you could stop them with that little dagger?” 

Quiet since his rescue, Tyrion’s different colored eyes are stuck on the ground. “No. Of course not. But I wasn’t going to go down without fighting. It wasn’t the first time I ran into someone threatening me. That’s why I’m going through the forest instead of through official roads and cities. You run into fewer obstacles that way.” 

“You still haven’t answered my question of why you’re out here. Surely your father doesn’t know where you are.” 

His small face twisted. “He wouldn’t even care. That’s why it doesn’t matter where I’m going.” Green and black turned to Barristan. “Thank you for saving me. I’ll be on my way now.” 

Like he could let this kid go off into the wild by himself. Barristan put himself in Tyrion’s path, craning his neck down so he could meet the young boy’s gaze. “You’re not going anywhere. You’re going back to Casterly Rock.” 

That made the boy gawk in surprise. “How do you. . .” 

“I’m a knight of the King’s Guard, boy. Barristan Selmy. You stayed at King’s Landing for your sister’s wedding.” 

There was a bristle that ran around Tyrion’s frame. Unbridled and shaking as the dwarf now became apprehensive of the man in front of him. “I’m not going back to the Rock, ser.” 

Crossing his arms, Selmy refused to budge. “A normal child can’t even make it in the wilderness.” 

Equally resilient, Tyrion grounded his feet in place. “If you haven’t noticed ser, I made it this far all by myself. Do you know how many bloody mountains there were from Casterly Rock to here? A lot! Not to mention animals that are bigger than me. Yes, I know fully well I’m a dwarf and could be killed at any minute. But I know where I’m going and what I’m doing.” Sticking his hand into his small cloth bag, Tyrion pulled out a rolled up scroll then threw it at Selmy’s feet. 

While keeping Tyrion in his line of sight, Barristan Selmy bends down to pick it up. Unrolling it revealed a rather detailed map of the region of the Reach to King’s Landing. 

“You’re going to King’s Landing?” 

He shakes his head. “No. I’m going to meet up with Rhaegar’s army.” 

“What for?” 

“To ask him his favorite flavor of pudding. What do you think for?” 

This kid had to be crazy. “You’ll get yourself killed.” 

The fact that that didn’t seem to phase the boy much bothered Selmy greatly. He sighs, not knowing what to do, and rubs the back of his neck. He couldn’t let this boy go with good conscience. That was out of the question. And if the kid did happen to make it to Rhaegar, what then? Rhaegar had no use for a child, let alone a dwarf. Tyrion was both. He knew that back at King’s Landing, Rhaegar had a soft spot for his brother-in-law. Grief and war does horrible things to a person, and if rumors and Ser Dayne’s letter were true. . . A child should definitely not be present during those violent acts of war. 

_“And though Rhaegar acts his usual self, during battle. . . He turns into someone entirely else. He fights with a furocity that he never had before. As if his goal was to kill every last enemy all by himself.”_ He remembers Ser Arthur Dayne’s written words. Selmy didn’t want to think of him in that state. 

Really, what reason was there to return Tyrion back to Tywin Lannister. There were so many cons. The boy would be miserable back there and return to being known as the Lannister Dwarf. 

It wouldn’t hurt for him to come along for a little bit. More important things to attend to first, Selmy would return the boy when he was done. Plus the boy could see his sister. “Look, you’re not going to Rhaegar and I’m going to return you to Casterly Rock. But not right away. Thing is I have an urgent parcel to deliver in Essos. Utmost urgent that I can’t waste another minute. I’m going to take you along with me and return you once the parcel has been delivered.” 

Immediately the boy’s eyes gleamed. “Essos?” 

“Yes, have you ever been?” 

A small shake of the head. 

“Well now you’ll have something interesting to say when you go back home.” Finally relaxing, Barristan returns to his spot under the tree. 

“Where are we porting from?” Tyrion eagerly inquired as he sat down next to Selmy as he spread out his own map. 

His finger traces a line from where they were at down south. Stopping at the Red Mountains, he explains “From here we’ll go through the Torentine River. All the way to Starfall. That is where we’re leaving port from. Someone I know there will give us a ship to sail through the Summer Sea to Volantis. It’s a very delicate mission. We can’t be detected and no one must know our actual identity. Safer so no one catches wind that a King’s Guard knight and a child that looks a lot like a certain Lannister Lord’s son.” 

“What is it that we’re even delivering? And why are you doing it? Like you said, you’re in the King’s Guard. Isn’t there something better you should be doing with your time?” 

Selmy laughs and shows Tyrion the box. “Don’t even ask me what’s inside it. I don’t even know myself.” 

For a moment, his small hands struggle to hold it but eventually gets used to the weight and examines it. Nails run along the seam. Thumping at the bulky metal latch that had no keyhole. “Odd.” 

“It’s owner must know the inner mechanisms that unlock it.” Shrugging, Selmy puts away his map and starts packing his horse. “I was just told that it was incredibly important.” 

The boy fantasized what could possibly be the important item inside. It wasn’t big enough to hold a sword, nor an axe or any other weapon that could be used in battle. Maybe there was a secret tome in there? Full of the incantations of magic. 

“Be forewarned, this won’t be a two-day vacation. This could possibly be a month or two.” 

“I don’t care. Not like I have anything to do at home anyway.” 

Whatever it was, Tyrion held onto it tightly as he and Selmy got on his horse and rode off.


	13. Part 12

You grin and bare the pain as your ankle throbbed. Each step you took hurt more until Weles saw the weakness in your footwork and used it to his advantage. To your credit though, you were still able to move quickly to avoid the slice of his blade as he swung at you with full force. Blocking another attack, your wrist trembled as your blade locked with his. There was nothing on his face that portrayed his thoughts and what he would do next. Weles had an amazing poker face that when he and Jaime played cards it was always a close game. You stared into his dark eyes, watching your own reflection. 

“More fire, (y/n).” Weles whispered as he pressed on, making you stagger on your bad ankle. 

Pursing your lips you try and do as he recommended. You twirled, sword sliding across his until the two were separate once more. Lunging at him and meeting his blade once again. You knew this dance though and performed the steps to perfection to avoid the sharp tip of his sword. After two weeks of training, you were finally more pliable and agile. Weles was a difficult mentor, but a good one. His goal was for you to succeed and he put that into your training. It was hard and relentless, but you prevailed. The first week had been the worst. Not even Jaime had given you that much of a wallop during training. Your arms and legs had been completely covered with bruises and the blisters on your hands were about ready to burst. Jaime, having caught sight of a rather ugly bruise on your thigh, nearly got into an altercation with Weles about how he was being too rough with you. Roughness was necessary. He wasn’t training a princess. He was training a warrior, a champion. You needed to experience that pain and soreness to truly appreciate the art of battle. How your body and life were so fragile, but your sword, your sword had to be stronger than the rest of you. 

You could feel the dirt that rose from the ground mingle with the sweat on your face as it caked onto you. The threatening sting as it rolled too close to your eyes. 

Block. 

Block. 

Lunge, 

Swipe, 

Strike! 

Weles kept well on his feet but you saw it. Saw the small stumble as the impact of your sword caught him off guard. Finally an opening. 

Ankle trembling and begging you to stop, you ignored it and leapt at him. 

When it came to it though. . . you were too scared at the potential of actually hurting Weles. Fear made your hand grow light and your sword fly out of your hand once Weles caught on to your hesitation. You watched your sword strike the ground pathetically. 

“What happened?” 

“I didn’t want to actually hurt you.” You told him and went to go pick up your sword, limping the entire time. 

“You’ll have to hurt me eventually. That’s how you learn. When you face the others, you’ll have to hurt them. Even kill them if the need arises.” 

You remembered back in Myr that man that Jaime had killed right in front of you. All that blood. The gurgling that frothed from your attacker’s mouth as he fought to stay alive. 

Would you ever be able to do that? Jaime made it seem like it was nothing. Not for the first time, you wondered how many people your brother has killed. Stomach pains arose just thinking of it. Did you have what it took to kill someone? To act so offensively? 

“Alright, that’s enough.” Jaime made himself clear as he wiped his face with a cold cloth. He had been quietly training with the other men of the Fiery Hand while you had your one-on-one time with Weles. Noticing how you were favoring your good leg, Jaime clicks his tongue against his teeth. “You’re too hard on her.” 

“You’re just too soft with her.” Weles counters and folds his arms against his chest. “She’ll toughen up in time. It’s only been two weeks since her training began. Give it time.” 

That did nothing to appease Jaime as he continued to stare down Weles. He dare not say anything though. What use would it do to have the same argument over and over again. 

Patting your brother’s sweaty arm, you tell him “It’s fine Jaime. He’s right. By next week I’ll be even better!” 

“That’s the attitude to have!” Crowed out Feichin as he made his way to your little trio. His dimpled smile was infectious as he threw an arm around Jaime’s shoulders. “You sure the two of you are siblings? You’ve been acting like a sour puss all day.” Enigmatic and charming, even Jaime rolled his eyes and smiled a bit as he pushed Feichin’s arm off of him. 

“Sour puss? You’re just a sore loser, my friend.” Jaime cooly replied. Those who overheard them laughed loudly. Even Sirvart who had been busy training with a former slave known as Yophiel. He was colossal and it was a mystery to you how anyone that size could be subjected to slavery. Whenever you spoke with Yophiel, he was always respectful and gentle. Traits of a man who was raised right by a good mother. No one at the Red Temple asked for background stories. The past didn’t matter. What mattered was that he was here now. Just like how no one asked you of your life back in Westeros. All they knew of you was what Thalina wrote to them in her letters. 

Quietly among the laughter, Alizah goes up to you. “My lady, are you ready for your bath now?” 

You nod. “Yes. That sounds amazing right now.” After training for hours you were ready to relax and wipe the grime of the day off of you. “Jaime! Are you going to be much longer?” 

Your brother nods while still pushing Feichin away. Chest fluttering when you saw how happy he was to be back in his arena of expertise. Jaime was a natural at learning all the new techniques that Weles and the others had been teaching the two of you. “Just a bit longer. I’ll see you at supper though.” 

Already Jaime had made friends. Not just Weles and Feichin, but even Yophiel found your brother agreeable as did Iyan, the young, exotic, Tyroshi who had hair the color of Rhaegar’s eyes and a pink beard. Then there was Vidarr who had actually been from Myr before entering the faith of R’hllor. The two of you got along better than he and Jaime due to the fact that you knew more Valyrian than your brother, something that Vidarr appreciated. You had spent much training time with Vidarr and talked much about your travels through Essos. Especially your stay in his home country. He had the same silver hair that your Rhaegar did, causing you much melancholy when you first met him. But Silver hair wasn’t that unusual to have in Essos. Vidarr had told you that the district he lived in in Myr was full of those with pale hair and dark skin. Old Valyrian traits. He must have been the only one around your age in the Fiery Hand, you knew for certain that Weles had to be older than Jaime. Iyan appeared to be in his late thirties from the looks of the lines on his face, the same as Yophiel and Dritan, another former slave. 

Watching for a moment as Jaime continues his training with the other men, you smile to yourself then turn and follow Alizah to the baths.   
  
  


“Does it hurt?” Alizah hesitates to put ointment on your ankle for the swelling. It had grown to the size of an apple. 

In a red robe, you perch yourself on the edge of the steaming hot spring as the red priestess tended to your ankle. “A little. Do you think I broke anything?” 

She laughs softly and shakes her head. “No, my lady. I do not believe so. You would be in much more pain if something had broken.” 

Nails digging into the dirt as Alizah rubbed gentle circles on your ankle, you suppressed your hiss at the sensation. Inanna, who had gathered your dirty clothes together, shoots you a concerned look. 

A red priestess by the name of Siofra goes to her. “Come along. Let’s leave (y/n) and Alizah. We must welcome back our sisters who have been out on their missionary travels.” The dark skinned Meereeneese nods and both leave. 

“Missionaries?” 

Alizah nods. “Yes. Many from our temple go to visit our other branches in Essos Once word of you arriving got out, well, they wanted to come home as soon as possible to meet you. They’re so excited to meet their champion.” 

Champion. Right. . . “Alizah, have you ever hurt anyone?” 

“Not intentionally.” She replies while setting your ankle back down onto the ground so you could swing it around and enter the bath. “Physically, no. I can’t do much harm if I can’t really see.” 

“But you kind of can see. Right?” 

“In a way. If you set me in front of a fire, I can see what’s in the flames clear as day. Sometimes that’s enough to get a view of the world around me.” 

“That’s cool. You see through fire.” You muse. The water was a god sent on your sore body as you let the bath drag you down. 

Turning around so that you could face her, Alizah is still sitting patiently at the edge of the pool. Her dark, star filled eyes staring at the ground. She was so small, even shorter than you. Black hair like satin falls over her shoulders. “I hope you don’t think me too forward, my lady, but I can sense a hesitancy in you.” 

Recalling back to your training, you grew anxious once again. You could have hurt Weles so easily. The wrong swing could slice him and make him bleed. You didn’t want that, especially when he had never cut you either. He was always careful, only hitting you with the flat side of his sword when he struck your weak spots. So why did he want you to hurt him? “I need to work on my offensive sword skills. Weles wants me to strike him.” 

“Then you should do it.” 

“But what if I seriously hurt him?” 

“My lady, you must not be worried. Weles is the head of the Fiery Hand for a reason. He wants you to be prepared to maim someone if necessary. And I guarantee you, one day you will need that skill. The Others will not be gentle with you. They won’t hesitate to kill you.” 

You sink deeper. “I don’t think I can though.” 

A hand on your head makes you look up as Alizah caresses your head. “You have been beaten down all through your life. Of course you think you can’t do it right now. You’re still growing your confidence and your fire. I told you, I can see through fire and I can see the flames that are inside of you. I assure you, they are there.” 

“I hope so.” 

Alizah stands up. “When you are done with your bath I have someone that I would like you to meet.” 

Curious, you finish washing yourself up and put on the clean clothes that Alizah had for you. Together you follow her through the Red Temple. Each passage was still new to you as was the beautiful scenic view that it had overlooking the sea. Old and full of secrets, the red sandstone of the open corridors were even more beautiful when the sun was setting as the orange colors paired well with it’s natural scarlet hue. There was still so much you had yet to explore. For the entire two weeks you had been in Volantis, you had been confined to either the training grounds or your own personal wing where Jaime also had his rooms. Of course you were free to explore the temple, but there were so many passages that you worried about getting lost; even with a good guide like Inanna or Alizah. You hadn’t even explored the city of Volantis, but you heard the prayers of the people on it’s steps. Those that followed R’hllor were aware of your presence and eager to catch a glimpse of you. Inanna had informed you that the Volantenese people were leaving you offerings at the steps of the temple and burning candles for you. It was all overwhelming for you to suddenly be this important person. Many of the offerings were flowers or candles, sometimes treats since word had gotten out that Azor Ahai Reborn had a sweet tooth. You refused the extravagant jewels that the upper class would leave for you. Now that was too much. 

You had only been to the red priestess’ dormitory a few times. Simple and humble abodes they possessed, at least that’s what you had seen of Alizah’s room. 

The doors were thin and narrow, only allowing one at a time to enter. Alizah feels along the wood of the door and nods before knocking. 

It doesn’t take long for the door to open. 

You felt like the wind was knocked out of you. The red priestess who was smiling at you looked almost like Thalina with her honey eyes and light brown hair that was pulled to the back and braided. “Alizah!” 

“How were your travels, Rhiannon?” 

“Wonderful but tiring.” Rhiannon admitted and took a step back. “Please, come in-” It’s only then that she takes note of your presence behind the short stature of Alizah. “Oh.” 

Alizah enters Rhiannon’s room and steps aside so that you may enter as well. “May I introduce you to īlva kosh, Azōr Ahaī sigligon. (y/n) Targaryen.” 

Her eyes widen and she quickly drops to the floor in a bow. “Ñuha kosh! I am so sorry I didn’t recognize you sooner.” 

“Ah! That’s not necessary!” You blush furiously. “Please stand!” 

“Ñuha kosh, this is Rhiannon. A fellow red priestess and the younger sister to your Thalina.” She gestures to the young girl who is getting up from the ground. You could see how long her braid really was. Thalina used to have the same length of hair before Viserys cut it off. Cruel little Viserys who at such a young age already had developed a personality that almost mirrored his father's Aerys. 

Thalina had never mentioned having a sister, then again she hadn’t mentioned much about her life prior to entering in your service. “I-It’s an honor to meet you!” 

Rhiannon grins and shyly plays with the length of her braid. “Oh no. The honor is truly all mine. Thalina told me so much about you. I’m so happy you made it to Volantis safe and sound.” 

A lump developed in your throat. If only Thalina could have come along with you. “Rhiannon. . . I’m so sorry about Thalina. . .” 

Her lips freeze in her smile and slowly dips down. Demeanor simpering, she drops her braid. “Do not be sorry for her. She embraced the possibility of her death once she foresaw it in the fire.” 

That made you feel even worse. “She knew?” 

Nodding, Rhiannon sits on her bed. Atop of her bed was a headboard where several knicknacks lay, including a little figure of a dragon. Just like the one Thalina had given you when the two of you first met. “Yes. Before leaving she did a fire reading with Alizah. There both saw her demise. Thalina wasn’t scared though. I feared for her of course. But she just smiled. She’s always been so brave.” 

Tears well up in your eyes as you try to control yourself. “Yes. She was brave.” 

Rhiannon smiles sadly. “And that’s the way I want to remember her. Do not grieve for her. I know Thalina and she wouldn’t have wanted that. You're here now. She can finally rest.” 

There was no way you could have possibly stopped your tears from falling.


	14. Part 13

“Rhaegar. Rhaegar, get up. You fell asleep.” 

A warmth spread beside him made Rhaegar curl comfortably against the source. The act makes the warm body giggle and lovingly run their fingers through his long silver hair. Yes, he wanted to hear more of that voice, of that giggle that couldn’t be suppressed. 

“Just a while longer (y/n).” He murmurs, face pressed into her soft stomach. 

(y/n) chuckles and lets him be. “How would it look though if someone were to stumble upon us with you, their future king, fast asleep on his wife’s lap?” 

“I don’t care.” Rolling onto his back he stares up at (y/n) face. Her muddy green eyes sparkling, the bow of her lip quirking up. “They just don’t understand how comfortable your lap is.” 

She laughs again and holds up his harp. “You fell asleep with it in your arms. I was worried you would crush it.” 

Smiling, he kisses her plump cheek, relishing in the scent of her hair. “My gratitude, sweet maiden.” 

He didn’t even have to look at her to know that there was a dark blush going across her face. Good, he was still able to make her blush. (y/n) still loved him. A small amount of relief that had been hiding inside of him goes away. 

“You never did tell me what you decided to name the song.” (y/n) busies herself with removing small little flowers from Rhaegar’s hair. He thought it was so funny how letting (y/n) braid his hair made her so happy. 

Experimentally plucking one string, then another, Rhaegar informs her “One must be careful when choosing a name for a piece such as this.” 

“Ah, I suppose so. Take your time with it then.” Once back to her feet, she brushes off leaves from her skirt. Only the smallest hint to her stomach region was the evidence of his child growing inside of her. He hoped this would begin to make up for the terrible thing he had done to her. Abruptly her smile falters. 

“(y/n)? What’s wrong?” Rhaegar freezes, staring at her. 

Eyes that had been so full of life a second ago suddenly grow dead, rolling to meet his gaze. Her lips turning a shade of green as more of the same substance drips from the corners of her mouth. “You can’t ever take back what you did.” 

Before his eyes the world around him grew into a wasteland. Blood dripped down (y/n)’s legs as she glared at him. Her hair coming undone from her braids and wreathing around her like a kraken’s tentacles. “You betrayed my trust.” 

“No-” 

“You never loved me.” 

“I DO! I LOVE YOU!!” 

Then her face grew sad. “Not when I needed it.” 

“(y/n)-” 

“You left me to die.” Her voice ripped him apart.  
*** 

Rhaegar thrashes in his bed before kicking off his blankets. Sitting straight up and gasping for air. That beautiful hair that (y/n) loved so much was gone; sheared short and truly revealing his face for all to see and the horrendous scar he now had. Let them stare at him. 

A few deep breaths were enough to bring him back. Back to his lonely, dark, tent that was at the edge of a battlefield. All was quiet at the moment though. Rhaegar had grown to hate the quiet. It made him anxious. Unbearably so. So strong, it felt like Rhaegar was being suffocated with it. The sound of battle was what he craved. Something that didn’t evolve sleep and nightmares of (y/n). But he required sleep to function. At least that’s what everyone around him was saying. Even carefree Oberyn Martell. In a last ditch effort to get Rhaegar to go to bed, Oberyn got him thoroughly intoxicated. The alcohol helped him sleep but only numbed his dreams so that they became gray and eerily more horrible. Milk of the poppy did a better job at erasing everything. 

He ran a hand over his eyes and sighed. He was still tired but dared not fall back asleep.  
  
  


“I understand you can’t sleep, but why did you drag me into it?” Grumbled Robert Baratheon as he scratched at his messy hair. It blended in well with the early morning darkness. 

“You know Griff sleeps like a rock. Once he’s asleep, he’s not waking up until he’s ready. And Arthur is still recovering from the last battle.” Rhaegar explains to the Stormland lord. 

He continues to grumble “Bloody fuck, I got hurt too.” 

Rhaegar chuckled as they walked outside of camp. “You got a splinter from the handle of your hammer.” 

“Still fucking hurt!” Continuing his complaints, Rhaegar only laughs. Instinctively going to opposites sides, Robert grabs his war hammer from his back and prepares himself for Rhaegar to attack. 

Taking a deep breath, Rhaegar became focused and sharp. Feeling the vibration of the earth as Robert tries to keep his ground. This is what he needed. He needed to fight. 

Needed to feel his blood pump and flow through him. Alive. That’s what he felt when he was fighting. So alive that he turned his grief and sorrow into productive rage. Rage felt better than grief. 

He let it take over him, coat him in it’s vile tar and drag him down into its depths. This was something that neither wine nor milk of the poppy could give him. 

Robert was the perfect sparring partner as he went at it with his full force, which was a lot as Rhaegar learned during their time together. War and battle helped to strengthen the bond of men and Rhaegar certainly had learned a lot about Robert. Like his insatious appetite for both women and wine. Wondering about Lyanna, it made Rhaegar concerned for her. She deserved better than a philandering husband like Robert. Not that he wasn’t a good man; it was obvious that he was quite in love with Lyanna, but of course that would never stop him from his true love: women in general. 

Nonetheless, Rhaegar would trust him with his life. He had proven himself in battle and off. A bit of a brute and rough around the edges, but it made Robert that more endearing somehow. He just needed to remember never to mention how once upon a time he had been in love with his fiancee. That would not go down well for Robert was also a jealous man. 

With the rising of the sun, Robert insisted that they call it quits. “Gods man. . . give me a break. Give yourself a break too while you’re at it.” They had just taken the Grassy Vale but a few nights ago. Now was the time to recuperate before restarting their march to King’s Landing where there would be plenty to fight no doubt. Rhaegar had a fire in him though that Robert couldn’t begin to fathom. A fire from his wife dying. Still recovering from the news of Queen Rhaella’s passing as well, Rhaegar was fighting an internal battle as well. Robert could hardly recognize his prince. Gone was his voluminous length of pale blonde hair and a vicious scar that ran across his fair skin. A scar he earned from saving Robert’s life. Lilac eyes no longer held their shine and whimsy. They were hard, even when he laughed it never reached his eyes. 

“I’ve taken enough of a break. You can head back to camp though. I apologize for keeping you up.” Shooting Baratheon with an apologetic smile, Rhaegar sits down to watch the rest of the sun come up from over the mountains. 

Robert couldn’t bring himself to leave him though. Inwardly he chastised himself for not taking the opportunity to go back and sleep. Instead he reluctantly sits next to Rhaegar. Griff would give him grief if he found out that he had just left Rhaegar by himself. 

In the distance the sounds of the rest of Rhaegar’s army waking up could be heard. The early morning bustling of squires and local septas who had been diligently healing those who had been wounded. Robert could smell campfires being lit to begin making breakfast, making his stomach growl. 

Laughing, Rhaegar insisted “You should go get something to eat. I’ve kept you out here long enough.” 

“You kidding me? If Jon sees me back at camp and realizes you're gone I’ll never hear the end of it. I’d rather not get a scolding like some petulant child.” Plus he liked the chilly breeze that the morning brought in, it felt nice on his fevered skin. “Worse than my own mother, may her soul rest in peace.” 

“Yes. . . I was sorry to hear about your parents’ ship. To lose not one, but both. . .” 

Growing somber, Robert drummed his fingers against his hammer. “Yes. They were good people. Aerys didn’t treat them right.” 

“Don’t you worry.” Rhaegar’s voice dropped and octave, making him sound deadly. “Aerys will get what’s coming to him.” 

Pressing his lips together in a firm line, Robert chose his words carefully as he had heard the rumors circulating. That it had been Aerys who had ordered the death of Rhaegar’s wife (y/n). It looked like Rhaegar believed them to be true. Aerys was perfectly capable of the assassination. “What happened to your wife was truly horrible. No one deserves to die like that.” 

Maybe he had said the wrong thing, for Rhaegar neither moved or said anything. Merely stared at the vast array of colors in the sky. “I shouldn’t have left. I should have stayed. War would have waited.” 

“If it was Aerys who killed her. . . well, you made the best decision you could have. He probably would have tried to go after you next.” 

“At least I might have been able to save her though.” 

“What-ifs are useless to ponder on.” Robert’s usual gruff voice was softened. “You’re fighting for something more. You’re fighting so that Aerys may never do that to anyone else’s loved one.” 

Rhaegar nodded. “That sounds like something (y/n) would have said too.” 

“Then she was a smart one.” 

“Yeah. She was.”  
  
  


“We’ve dispatched the Northern squadron ahead.” Ned points to the map of Westeros. He was looking more and more like his brother Brandon each day. Childhood fading away from his face to become that of a man’s. All Northmen seemed to be ready for battle at any moment. “Even though we’re keeping out of the King’s Woods there will no doubt be Aerys’ scouts lurking around the border of the forest. Perhaps even a small battalion waiting for us.” 

“They underestimate us.” Oberyn muses. 

Arthur shakes his head. “No. Word has spread of our quickening advance. Our recent battles have been the talk in the capital.” 

“And the Lannisters?” Jon Connington questions. 

Rhaegar steps up. “Tywin has kept true to his word. A troop of incognito Lannister knights will be meeting up with us when we draw near to the end of the Mander’s tail. They will bring along with them fresh supplies.” 

Everyone kept their mouth shut of their doubts on Tywin Lannister. No one trusted him, not even Rhaegar; but as Oberyn said, an ally was an ally. The Golden Lion would be handled with at another time. 

“According to Brandon’s last raven, they found a troop of Aerys’ soldiers coming but quickly disbanded them.” The middle Stark boy points to the outline of the King’s Woods on the map. “From the size of it, it appears that Aerys still isn’t taking your campaign seriously.” 

“Or he could just be gauging how big of an army we have now.” added Arthur. 

No, knowing his father, Rhaegar knew that the king’s paranoia wouldn’t allow him to take this whole war lightly. Either that or someone on his King’s Council has been manipulating him into thinking otherwise. Rhaegar could think of only one man that Aerys would allow into his head like that: Varys. 

What was the Spider up to?


	15. Part 14

“That’s some bad news.” Rhiannon frowns after you told her the story of your run in with the darkin. 

“Everyone seems to agree on that, but he hasn’t returned since.” You tried to keep the hope out of your voice. Hope that the matter with the darkin was over and done with. A one time passing. 

Thalina’s younger sister was less hopeful. “It’s because you’re inside the temple. He wouldn’t dare step foot in here just to harm you. That is, if he’s smart.” 

Since your first meeting, Rhiannon had become your companion. You had never had someone to interact with that was close to your age. Your only friend had been Thalina. It was nice to have an actual friend again. When Rhiannon was with you, she joked around and snorted freely. On your down time, she would take you around the temple while telling you stories of her and Thalina’s childhood. Something that her older sister had never let slip but Rhiannon wasn’t as secretive as Thalina. She told you everything as you did with her. How their mother couldn’t afford to keep them and entrusted their life to the Red Temple. Better than starving to death but they still missed their mother dearly. They hadn’t seen her since the day she gave them up. Rhiannon sadly theorized that she was probably dead. A younger Rhiannon had hoped to run into her in the city, but that never happened. 

Popping a salty olive into your mouth, you munch away; watching Rhiannon as she put a slice of cheese on top of her bread before finishing it off with a thin piece of ham. “Why wouldn’t he want to come in here?” 

Licking her fingers, Rhiannon says “Because he’s a darkin. Darkins are the way they are because of R’hllor. He is the Lord of Light. And without light, there can be no shadows.” 

“What about just regular darkness? Like at night. Everything is dark.” 

“There’s a difference between the dark and shadows. Shadows have a life to them which they get from R’hllor while the dark is unfeeling and cold. R’hllor created the darkin so that they may aid Azor Ahai in his battle. The darkin are here to serve us. Whoever is after you is abusing his power.” Her amber eyes that looked like rich honey turn up to you. “To raise a hand against you, surely a sin. Sirvart was only able to fend him off because her weapon was forged in holy fire and her Fiery Hand tattoo.” 

All of the Fiery Hand had flames upon their cheeks, but not Sirvart. “But she doesn’t have those flame tattoos like Weles and the others have.” 

“No. Her’s is in a less obvious place. The back of her neck. That’s where her slave brand used to be. She wanted her tattoo to cover up what she once was. Of course she could never forget. None of us can forget our past but we can move on from it.” Rhiannon pushed away her plate, finally deciding that she was full. For having such a nice figure, she sure did eat a lot. For you though? Your appetite had never quite returned after you had been poisoned. A headache for Jaime during your early days on the ship that had brought you to Essos. You were sickly thin and growing thinner as the rocking of the ship made you incredibly ill. Even when you finally made it to land you weren’t hungry. It was Jaime who would gently coax food into you. He was patient with trying to get your weight back up. He could have yelled at you and even force-feed you, but he didn’t. Whatever meal he was eating, he made sure to give you small bites of it. If it was meat, Jaime would cut it into the smallest pieces he could. 

You and Rhiannon had taken your breakfast outside on your balcony to overlook the gentle morning sea. It happened to overlook the training ground alcove too. Dozens of men could be seen starting their morning routine. A few women as well since the Hand did not discriminate. 

“I should probably head down there soon.” 

Rhiannon nods and gets up. “I’ll fetch Inanna and Alizah.”   
  
**   
  


There was nothing like the sharp morning air. Jaime inhaled deeply and grinned. He had definitely missed this. 

Stretching out his muscles, Jaime glances up at his sister’s balcony and caught a glimpse of her as she was finishing up her breakfast. (y/n) and Rhiannon didn’t waste time in becoming friends. Good. He was happy that she had a friend here. And for it to be Thalina’s sister, well, all the better. Jaime had found himself thanking Thalina for everything she had done for (y/n) and protecting her. If only he hadn’t been so blind for all those years. Maybe things could have turned out better for Thalina. 

Just then he makes eye contact with his sister. He could barely make out her smile as she leans over the rail to wave to him. Jaime chuckles and waves back. She would probably be down soon for her own training. Incredibly cute in her training robes, Jaime had to stop himself many times from just staring at her and smiling like an idiot. That fool Feichin had already started to call Jaime “Starry Eyes” whenever the soldier noticed him staring at his sister. 

Careful. 

He had to be more careful. 

Everyone in the temple was more perceptive than Jaime thought. Someone could easily read his true feelings for (y/n). If word got out, what then? (y/n) would be disgusted with him surely if her reaction to him and Cersei was any indication. 

Clearing his throat, Jaime turns around and picks up his sword from the bench. (y/n) had enough on her plate as it was. She didn’t need to know that her brother, a brother she had finally connected with, had incestuous feelings for her. That wouldn’t look good on him. 

“You look constipated.” 

Jaime glares at Weles who only chuckles. “Just deep in thought.” 

“Ah, that’s not good. Being deep in thought does nothing for you when you’re fighting.” Weles laces his hands together then stretches them over his head, giving his arms and back a good stretch. Sirvart’s loud laugh could be heard as she and Yophiel arrive along with another woman that went by Chetna. Chetna had her hair sheared very close to her scalp so that Jaime could barely make out her dirty blonde hair color. Her skin, which Jaime suspected had once been milk white, was covered now with freckles and a dark tan from the immense time she spent in the sun. 

Yophiel towered over the two women but Jaime had learned by now that he was nothing more than a teddy bear when he wasn’t training or fighting. Jaime watched as Sirvart playfully slapped Yophiel’s meaty arm before giving his bicep a quick kiss that reduced the larger man to a blushing mess. Sirvart and Chetna went off for their pre-training run as they did every morning. 

Life felt normal at the temple. At least as normal as possible. Jaime and (y/n) had established a life there in such a short amount of time. A month had passed since they first arrived and Jaime still felt strange that everyone around them was becoming quite familiar to them both. He found himself joking with everyone in the Fiery Hand and even chatting with some of the red priestesses that he passed in the hall. They were all kind to him. Even so, Jaime still did not attend the prayer services that they held daily. He didn’t believe in the Seven because there was no proof that they existed. But R’hllor? Jaime couldn’t deny everything that pointed to this Lord of Light being real. The biggest proof was his very own sister. 

Jaime was pulled out of his stupor when Vidarr, a fellow soldier, got into his line of sight. The once Westerosi knight couldn’t contain the agitation that flamed in him. The silver haired soldier had been acting fairly chummy with (y/n) as of late and Jaime didn’t like it one bit. He knew why too. Vidarr had the same color hair as Rhaegar. (y/n) and Vidarr spoke Valyrian to each other with further maddened Jaime as he could not understand. Matters were made worse by the fact that Vidarr was very easy on the eyes. With a slim, long nose and high cheekbones that complimented a jawline that could cut glass. Very much like Rhaegar indeed. It made Jaime uneasy. He looked too much like Rhaegar for his comfort. That Valyrian blood was strong. 

“Never you mind him. Focus on the task at hand.” Weles told him when he flicked his eyes over to the pale haired Myreeneese. Vidarr was training with an older member of the Fiery Hand, focused and in control of his blade. That's what Jaime should have been doing. 

“He better not try anything with (y/n).” 

In a blink of an eye, the air had been knocked out of Jaime and he found himself flat on his back; staring up at Weles. “Occupy yourself with something better. Like training.” If someone had done that to him in Westeros, Jaime would have beat him to a bloody pulp. With Weles though he had to swallow back his anger and get up to his feet. This matter would be settled in training. 

In a softer tone, Weles adds “You don’t have to worry about Vidarr. He would never do anything disrespectful to īlva kosh. You have my word.” 

That was partly what he was worried about, but not the stem of his fear. Jaime worried that because Vidarr bore a resemblance to Rhaegar that (y/n) might very well fall in love with him. She was still deeply in love with Rhaegar, (y/n) might misplace that love and transfer it to Vidarr. That was worse than Vidarr trying anything on her. 

“Get your head back in the game and show me what you can do with the hūra egros.” Weles pulled his own curved blade from his back. 

Moon Blade. That’s what they called it. Or at least that’s what (y/n) had translated it to. 

Fighting with two blades still felt weird to Jaime, almost awkward, but Nuahlin had reassured him that it will feel like the most natural thing after a while. Come to find out the old man had once been the leader of the Fiery Hand back in his youth. He was very well respected in the Red Temple and for very good reason. 

Instead of using a shield, Jaime had learned to block attacks with the flat side of his sword and put into play a lot of fancy footwork that Weles had taught him. It really was almost like dancing. Except Jaime wished he had a prettier dancing partner. He’d watched Weles sparring with the others and took note of their form. Everyone fought as if they were made of air. Even (y/n) was getting the hang of moving so quickly and fluidly yet she still wasn’t ready yet to learn the hūra egros. Weles said she had much to learn before wielding that weapon. Jaime now understood why. He had thought it nearly impossible when he first started using the hūra egros. What was he supposed to do with his first blade? 

_ “Do what you did before. Use it.”_

Easier said than done but gradually he learned that it was indeed possible to use two blades at once. It just took time and patience as all good things do.


	16. Part 15

The blisters on your hands were healing and becoming strong calluses the more you trained. You could see the improvements already and it made you ecstatic. Never once had you imagined that you would be sword fighting alongside your brother. 

Smiling to yourself, you absentmindedly listen to Rhiannon’s voice and the others in the choir. Rising up to the high ceiling of the Red Temple while the scent of incense relaxed you. The spot beside you was empty as Jaime didn’t particularly like attending services. He would much rather be out on the grounds with the others. You would have preferred that too but as Azor Ahai reborn, you were expected to attend every so often so that other worshippers could see you. High Priest Benerro was in the works of preparing you for your revealment so that not only the worshippers at the temple knew who you were, but the whole of Volantis. Benerro insisted upon it so what could you do? 

He had you seated atop near the altar and between two iron torches that were alive with flames. A flowing red robe that threatened to fall off of your shoulders as you had to pull them up every so often. Gold bangles adorned your wrists and a large scarlet ring shined on your thumb. The robe was rumored to have been worn by Azor Ahai himself; kept in a glass case and well taken care of for centuries. Gold threading kept the robe together, catching the light from the fires around you. Kohl outlined your bottom lid, red powder on top; Inanna said it showed the duality of light and shadows and how they intertwined. It brought your thoughts back to the darkin. He was still out there. Waiting for you to come out of the temple. That’s when he would attack. You hoped you would be strong enough then to fend for yourself. You remembered how fast he was though, hopping from shadow to shadow. He nearly had you too had it not been for Sirvart. Trapped by your very own shadows at your feet. You had felt utterly powerless and had accepted your death. Coming face-to-face with death so many times already, it didn’t phase you one bit at the moment. 

Lions. 

Poison. 

Fire. 

You had survived them all. Perhaps by sheer dumb luck or otherworldly help, you honestly didn’t know how you were still alive. 

“Ñuha kosh.” 

You lift your face up. She was beautiful. Pale skin with long red hair and an even redder gown; another red priestess that must have just come back from her missionary visits to the rest of Essos. Her Common Tongue was exquisite with only the slightest hint of her native accent. 

Bowing her head an inch, she turns her abnormal red eyes up to you. “Ñuha kosh, it would be an honor to introduce myself. I am Melisandre.” Melisandre spoke softly as to not disturb the choir’s singing. Many of the red priestesses had made it a point to introduce themselves to you. 

“The honor is mine to meet you.” Putting on a friendly smile, you allow her to kiss the base of your pedestal as so many others had done before. The act was still embarrassing for you but you figured that if they didn’t mind, you wouldn’t stop them. You had to accept the importance you had to them, whether you disagreed or not. 

Her heart shaped face was hard to deny anything to. Around her slender throat you noticed she had a similar necklace to Alizah’s. A choker styled necklace that held a large ruby stone in the middle. Rhiannon had explained that those necklaces were special. She had her own chain necklace with a garnet gem, but the chokers were only given to those who had demonstrated their ability to read the flames. Something Thalina would have acquired had she stayed in Volantis. Thalina could have done so many things if she had stayed. She met an early demise with you. 

“I hope you will accept my assistance with your darkin problem. The high priest has informed me of your run in.” Offering her services, Melisandre continues to stay on her knees in front of you. “The darkin rose from my homeland of Asshai. I have more knowledge than others about them and the Darkin Society.” 

You sat up a little bit in your seat. “Really? You're from the shadow land?” 

Dark red lips turn up. “Yes, Ñuha kosh. I am 0ne of few children who were actually born there and thrived. Asshai lacks children and life. Those who manage to survive, well, they have a natural affinity for magic.” 

Magic rang through her eyes. You could see that much. It reminded you of the chilly blue eye of the darkin. So pale blue that it could almost blend into the whites of his eye. Melisandre continues “Darkin and shadowbinders alike originate from Asshai.” 

“I would love to learn more.” Replying breathlessly, you find yourself leaning forward in your seat. You would find yourself against him once again surely, it was best you learn everything you could about the darkin. Rhiannon had already helped you plenty, but there was only so much she knew about them. 

“My services are at your disposal, Ñuha kosh” She bows once more before leaving.  
  
  
  


“Is it too heavy?” Rhiannon asks you as she adjusts the ceremonial headdress on you. 

Jaime was sitting at the table in your room, drinking and smacking his lips as he enjoyed his red wine. “Geez, that thing looks like it’s made out of solid gold.” 

Inanna laughs, tucking the sash to your robe. “Because it is.” 

You stifle a laugh and try to keep your neck straight. “Only a little bit.” The tassels on each side of the headdress tickled at your cheeks making you swat them away. “Did Azor Ahai himself wear this too?” 

“No. This is just for you. Don’t worry, you won’t have to wear this into battle. It is merely for your ceremony.” explained Rhiannon, taking a step back to assess how it looked. 

A soft smile makes her eyes warm. “Beautiful. Now you look like a goddess.” 

Examining yourself in the mirror, you felt yourself growing self-conscious. Rhiannon was right. You did look like a goddess. Or at least someone of great importance. You hadn’t even looked as pretty in your wedding dress, and that had been an exquisite piece of clothing made by the best craftsmen in Westeros. Red, gold, yellow, orange and black hung from your body yet were still able to define your feminine curves. And although the headdress would be considered gaudy back home, here in Essos it fit right in. A heavy gold headband with spikes sticking straight up to the sky to resemble the sun’s rays. 

You glance at your discarded sheet of paper on the table where Jaime was at. For the past couple of nights you had tried your best to come up with something to say to the people of Volantis. Something a champion would say to their people. You were stuck with your words though, for as often as people called you their champion you still didn’t feel like one. 

Rhiannon notices your dispodent glance and takes it upon herself to grab Inanna’s arm. “Come along, Inanna. We shall go to the high priest and inform him that everything fits well. She will be ready for the ceremony.” 

Nodding without question, Inanna and Rhiannon leave. 

“Have a drink, sister.” Jaime smiles at you and holds out his chalice. “It’ll settle your nerves.” 

You shake your head and pat down your ceremonial garb. “No, that’s okay. I don’t want to risk staining this.” 

“Like anyone would notice with all that red.” He chuckles and takes a sip himself while with his free hand he grabs your speech paper. Watching him for his reaction, you take the seat across from him. 

“What do you think?” 

Sighing, he puts the piece of paper back down. “It doesn’t sound like something you would say to be quite honest.” 

The honest truth made you groan. “I know. But I have no idea what to say. I was trying to think of what father or Cersei would say. It still doesn’t feel right though. I’ve never had to be in front of so many people and give a speech. I asked the high priest what the speech should be but he said that was up to me. Something to introduce me to the people of Volantis as Azor Ahai reborn.” 

“Maybe it would help if you thought of your speech in Valyrian. Not so straight forward like the Common Tongue. I’ve picked up a few words here and there. Valyrian is a language much like poetry. No wonder I’m no good at it.” 

“You would be if you had the patience. You were always so fidgety as a child. If it didn’t have to do with swords or stories about battle, you wanted nothing to do with it.” You point out with a giggle as Jaime puts on his grumpy frown. 

“Battle is my language.” Your brother acknowledges with a nod. 

Pondering over the piece of paper, you remove the headdress as it was starting to put a strain on your neck. “In Valyrian. . .” 

Jaime shrugs. “It’s the language of the people you’ll be speaking to.” 

You lean back in your chair and think of the scripture and creed of R’hllor. What you were meant to be for thousands of people. 

“Hey,” Jaime grabs your hand and you feel him pull you back to stability “it’ll be okay I know you. You can do this. You’ve proven many people wrong so many times. Done the unimaginable. When I rescued you from the fire, there wasn’t a burn mark on you whatsoever. It’s like even the flames didn’t want to harm you. You are a champion, (y/n).” His fingers weave with your own until your palms comfortably rest against the other. “And I’ll be by your side. Probably in some eyesore of an outfit.” 

That managed to make a laugh bubble up inside of you. “That would be quite the sight. I hope they put you in a matching headdress.” 

Jaime pointedly makes a face at that. “Yeah, no thank you.”  
  


“And what are you doing here?” 

You look up at Vidarr’s amused face. That face of his that always broke your heart a little bit each time. His face was too much like Rhaegar’s sometimes that it was hard for you to look at him at certain moments. The eyes were different though. That was enough to remind you that your husband was thousands of miles away, back in Westeros. Vidarr wasn’t Rhaegar. Lacked those captivating purple eyes that you loved so much. From your hands and knees you grin at him and drop the piece of fish you had tried to tempt a stray cat with. At his presence the cat had immediately fled, not caring about the delicious morsel you had to offer. His silver hair was tied back into a high ponytail, signs that he had just finished with his practice. In that stance he reminded you of Rhaegar. 

Standing, you brush off your knees from dirt. “I saw it from my balcony and it looked hungry. Figured I would share since I don’t have much of an appetite.” 

He chuckles and shakes his head. “That cat eats plenty. The grounds are littered with rats and mice alike. Plus they steal from the local fishmongers.” Dark eyes notice something that had fallen from your sleeve pocket. Nimble fingers snatch it before you have time to register what you were missing. 

You squeak and reach to grab it but Vidarr has a good foot advantage over you. 

“Your speech?” 

“Well, my attempt at a speech. For my revealing ceremony.” A thought comes to you and you stop trying to retrieve it from him. “Jaime suggested I try thinking of the speech in Valyrian. Maybe that would help me.” 

In agreement, Vidarr nods. “The Golden Knight isn’t as dull as he seems.” 

“That’s not nice. Jaime is plenty bright. He just prefers to use steel rather than his brain. He got us all the way to Volantis.” 

An apologetic tone takes over. “My apologies. I only tease as he is so fun to poke. But he is right. Your audience will most likely all speak Valyrian.” In Valyrian he adds “And it is a much more beautiful language than the Common Tongue.” 

“Jaime says it’s poetic.” You giggle and allow Vidarr to look over what you had written so far. 

His frown has you worrying. “There is no heart in these words. Like someone else has written this for you.” 

“I know. I don’t feel much like someone important. Someone worthy of a ceremony.” 

Vidarr snorts making you furrow your brow at him. “That’s nonsense. You don’t need me to tell you that you are worthy. You should know by now. Your brother has told us of your travels and dispairs. You have survived and that is more than admirable. And you fight with such heart and fire.” 

Weles would beg to differ. He had said you lacked fire. But. . . You manage to smile with dewey eyes at him. In reply Vidarr returns the gentle smile. With his index finger, he presses it against your chest making you blush a little bit at how close it was to your breasts. “Gaomagon bona rōva prūmia hen aōha's, ñuha kosh.”


	17. Part 16

“That’s too cliche.” The youngest Lannister sibling argued. He was a good one, Selmy reluctantly noted to himself as the two of them had already gotten into two arguments. Tyrion, despite his young age, was sharper than any blade and had a knack for making flawless argumentative statements. Each point he made took huge chunks out of any argument Selmy could muster. 

“Not cliche, normal. Safe. We want to appear normal if we run into anyone asking questions.” Barristan was a patient man, had always been. Truth be told he actually enjoyed their debates. It kept them busy on an already long journey. “Fathers and sons are seen all the time traveling together.” 

Tyrion refused to look the knight in the eyes, something that alerted Selmy to one of Tyrion’s sullen moods. “So are knights and their squires. We can pose being a knight and squire instead.” 

Who would believe that Tyrion was his squire though? Incredibly short, even for a young child, it was all too obvious by the naked eye of Tyrion’s deformity. A long torso with short limbs, accentuated by his mismatched eyes. He could never be anyone’s squire. 

If he were to tell this child that though, he would feel like a monster. There was no need to say it out loud; Tyrion already knew that in reality he could never be anyone’s squire. He could never be like his older brother Jaime. 

Holding his tongue, eventually Selmy agreed to Tyrion’s suggestion. There was no harm in it. Let the boy live a little while he could. “Very well then, but that means you will have to act like my squire, young-” 

“Vaiko.” Tyrion interrupts with that oddly loud voice of his. Green and black finally return to Selmy’s face. “Vaiko Hill will be my squire name. I’d much rather be a bastard than. . .” He grew quiet, refusing to finish that thought. There was no need. Barristan Selmy already was aware of Tywin Lannister’s treatment of his two youngest children. The relationship, if you could even call it that, was poor. Even as (y/n) married Prince Rhaegar, Tywin still held that permanent frown. Any other father would have been over the moon. 

“Vaiko it is. Where did you get that name from?” It wasn’t a name you heard in Westeros. 

In a simple manner, Tyrion replies “I read a lot.” 

Nodding, Selmy trains his attention back to the road ahead. It had been a while since they had seen anyone on the main road. They took their chances and leave the safety of the forest. Barristan and Tyrion would need to go back on the established path eventually if they wanted to get passage through the Dornish Marshes. The Prince’s Pass was the only way to safely get to Dorne by land. It went straight through the mountain and led exactly to Starfall. 

Passing through the Reach, Selmy and Tyrion saw first hand the horror of war. The older knight had warned Tyrion to close his eyes as they passed through a battlefield. Stubborn just like the Warden of the West, Tyrion refused to look away. This was what he almost enlisted himself to. So young but as he gazed at the carnage, the boy aged a good twenty years. Tyrion would never tell his companion that the site haunted him deep in his dreams. He would deal with the dismembered images by himself. The outcome of war and the deep scars it left on the land. At least it was enough to straighten out Tyrion and any thought of joining Rhaegar. 

The mountain chains that separated Westeros from Dorne was becoming more visible as each day passed. Selmy could tell that Tyrion was beside himself with excitement as the boy squirmed on the saddle. Very likely due to the fact that he hadn't gotten to see this much of the world due to Tywin’s embarrassment. The Lord of Casterly Rock was acutely sensitive about having a dwarf for a son. A question came across his mind; since Jaime had vanished months ago with no sign of returning, who would Tywin declare as his successor? The Lannister family was a large one but surely Tywin wanted the famed title of Warden to one of his sons. Who would he choose if not Tyrion? 

“Do you even know how to use a sword? A squire at least knows the basics.” explains Selmy to the overtly quiet Tyrion who stretched his neck up to the sky. Such a big world for someone as small as him. A big world where he was all alone. Right now all he had was Selmy. 

It only made him purse his lips in agitation. “I wanted to. Begged father. But he said a dwarf has no place on the training ground.” His tone was defensive. Plenty of boys by Tyrion’s age already knew how to correctly handle a blade. Yet another reminder of how captive his life had been back home. 

Slowly, he shifts the pressure of the horse reins and veers off the beaten path. His surroundings having changed, Tyrion asks “Where are you going?” 

Safely in the heart of the forest, Selmy dismounts his horse and lifts Tyrion off as well. “You should at least learn the basics. We’ll need something for practice.” Barristan pulls a sizable branch, ripping it from it’s foundation. With a satisfied nod, he takes out a small knife and begins to quickly whittle away at the branch. 

Tyrion stares nervously at the makeshift sword before looking back up at Barristan. The former captain of the King’s Guard had the starting lines of crows feet near his pale, sad, blue eyes. Thick threads of silver and white are overcoming his once blonde head. “You want to teach me how to use a sword?” 

“Of course. It’s a very useful skill to possess.” True, especially during these times of uncertainty and danger. If Tyrion really wanted to be on his own in the world it wouldn’t hurt to know how to defend yourself. And Selmy knew that this kid was already a quick learner and an eager student. He would pick it up fairly fast, although it would take Barristan some time to grow accustomed to Tyrion’s height deficiency. 

Switching from his small knife to the quickly fashioned training sword, Tyrion weighed it in his small hands. Tentatively, he takes a firm grip on the “handle”. While Barristan makes his own practice weapon, Tyrion slashes at the space in front of him. One of the most renowned knights in all of Westeros was going to be his teacher. Already his life had been so much better after leaving Casterly Rock. The beginning trek from the West hadn’t been an easy one, but Tyrion persevered all by himself. 

He couldn’t stop smiling to himself. Too slow in hiding it, Barristan caught the sight of a happy child. When Tyrion smiled, his eyes were glossy with joy. Like his older sister (y/n). The short time she lived at the Keep, everyone knew of Princess (y/n)’s lovely smile. It made her beautiful. Personally Barristan didn’t think the youngest Lannister daughter was pretty. Plain and unimposing, (y/n) had a square face with bowed lips that were a natural soft pink. Unlike Cersei, (y/n) never wore makeup which would possibly improve her appearance. When she smiled, oh, she didn’t need makeup. Her lips would part in a gleeful laugh, showing off perfect rows of pearls. One could feel the joy by gazing upon her sparkling eyes. 

_ “Mother says that (y/n) smiles just like Johanna did.”_ Rhaegar had told Selmy one day. (y/n) and Tyrion smiled just like their dearly departed mother. 

Shyly, Tyrion inquires “When did you learn to use a sword?” 

Thinking as he worked on his branch, Selmy easily replies “Possibly seven or eight.” 

He nods, knowing that Jaime probably started at that age as well. Many knights started off young. It was the only way. Learn to wield a blade during childhood before becoming a squire for some lord. Grueling years of hard work; Barristan did not miss them but knew those years were essential to his growth. 

“Better to learn now then never.” The old knight offers Tyrion with a small smile. His practice sword was ready. “Now, young Hill, stand in front of me and we shall begin the basics.”

From then on their days were filled with traveling and sword training. Not so bad considering that Tyrion had spent the majority of his life sequestered in the library of Casterly Rock. As Selmy had foreseen, Tyrion was a very fast learner. In the beginning it had been a bit of a struggle. The young boy was top heavy and with the slightest push back, he easily toppled over. The matter wasn’t helped by the fact of his short arms and legs that offered him no stability as he flailed in an attempt to maintain his balance. Easily frustrated by his disability, Barristan would force Tyrion back on the horse for a break and to continue their journey. His mission was not time sensitive, at least Varys didn’t tell him it was, but Selmy wanted to make it to Starfall as soon as possible. With a civil war going on it wasn’t safe to travel. Especially if someone from either side was to spot him and recognize the young boy he was with. Gods did the boy learn fast how to keep his balance and adjust his body. 

Within a few more days, the duo was already at the pass to the Dornish Marshes. 

Tyrion gazed at the massive mountain chain with trepidation. Once they passed through, they technically wouldn’t be in Westeros anymore. Despite being part of the Seven Kingdoms, Dorne still considered themselves a separate sovereignty. 

Through the marshes, their adventure would truly begin. 

Sensing the tenseness in Tyrion, Barristan halts his horse. “Are you ready?” 

Little hands took the reins from Barristan and urged the horse onward. “As ready as I’ll ever be.” 

Grinning, Barristan let Tyrion take the lead.


	18. Part 17

Lady Ashara Dayne was as beautiful as the day Barristan had first met her. The most beautiful woman in the entire world, at least in his eyes. There was an undeniable flutter in his chest as his palms began to develop a film of sweat. And it wasn’t due to the Dornish heat. Even little Tyrion gazed at the mistress of Starfall with enchanted eyes. Their journey through the Red Mountains had been long and excruciating as the glare of the sun bore down on them. Only to be relieved when they neared the shores of the cooling Summer Sea. 

Playful lilac eyes that reminded him of the Targaryens, Ashara welcomes them with open arms. “This is quite the surprise. To what do I owe the honor of this visit? I hope it doesn’t have to do with my brother.” Her smile falls. “Arthur is okay, right?” 

Barristan purses his lips in uncertainty. “To be honest I do not know, my lady. I have heard no news on Rhaegar’s front.” 

Concern filled her pretty face but she relented with a nod. “I see. Knowing Arthur I can only assume that he is doing okay. . .” 

“He is one of the best knights in all of Westeros.” Tyrion happily points out. 

“Ah, I see you have acquired yourself a young squire.” Ashara smiles down at Tyrion. Nothing on her face showed displeasure at the sight of the dwarf which surprised Tyrion. 

“Yes. This is Vaiko Hill.” 

“A strong name.” Her long dark hair falls over her shoulder like a silk curtain. It made Tyrion perk up and shyly blush. 

“My lady, I’m afraid this visit isn’t one of leisure.” Solemnly, Barristan breaks the news of their mission and shows Ashara the chest they are to deliver to Essos. 

She examines it, running her hands over the worn out wood and metal trim. “You have not mentioned to whom you would be delivering such an important package to. If it were for anyone normal surely you would have just left through Blackwater Bay, yes?” 

Barristan became all too aware of Tyrion’s presence. “I have been given instructions not to say the recipient’s name. It’s a rather delicate situation.” 

Ashara was smart. Much smarter than Barristan gave her credit for. “You must understand my hesitation to let you board one of my ships. You have still allied yourself to Aerys, the man my brother is trying to overthrow. What if this item is meant to destroy the efforts of Arthur and the rest of Rhaegar’s army? I can’t let that happen. My family comes first, Ser. I will not take part in my own brother’s undoing.” There was no need for a sword to make Ashara fierce. One of many reasons why Starfall was left in her care since her nephew Edric was too young to rule. When she wanted, she could emanate fear. It reminded Selmy of the young Cersei Lannister; lovely yet there was a terrifying aura about them. 

It made Barristan swallow back the immediate nerves that had surfaced. “This matter has nothing to do with the war, I swear on it.” 

His words do little to convince her as she stands her ground. “Then you won’t mind if I join your company to Essos.” 

Gawking now, he stammers over several excuses. “My lady, I assure you-” 

“Your assurance means little to me. Not when I know that you are still loyal to the Mad King.” 

Tyrion squirmed beside his knight as he felt the storm of tension brewing over head. A fact that Tyrion had forgotten was that Selmy was indeed still loyal to the current crown. If the rumors he heard were true, then Aerys had a hand in (y/n)’s death. He felt the tips of his ears grow warm as anger settled in. The man he had been traveling with for weeks was in charge of protecting a monster. His sister was dead and Barristan was shielding the murderer. How could he have forgotten? Truth be told, Tyrion quite enjoyed traveling with the older knight. They got along fairly well and Tyrion was enthralled by the stories he told. Barristan was the father Tyrion never had. How could he continue to follow this man though when his liege possibly murdered his beloved sister? It would be a dishonor to her memory. 

He couldn’t say any of that out loud. At least not in front of Ashara. He wasn’t Tyrion Lannister. He was a bastard with a name of a hero he had read about in a Valyrian story. Even though it pained him, Tyrion kept his mouth shut and glared down at his leather boots. 

With a grimace and a reluctant sigh, Barristan agreed. She would find out sooner or later who he’d be traveling to. As would Tyrion. 

Satisfied, the smile returns to Ashara’s face. “It’s settled then. We leave for Essos tomorrow morning. Oh! Both of you must have had quite a long journey. Lets get you some food and a comfortable bed.”   
**   
  


“How long will you be gone for?” Allyria asks her older sister. Young Edric Dayne had attached himself to Vaiko like a lost duckling. Vaiko didn’t seem to mind too much as he entertained the lordling with tales of his journey while his master washed up. The sisters watched them as they spoke quietly to one another. 

A few of Starfall’s knights, when hearing Vaiko tell Edris how Selmy was teaching him the art of the blade, wanted to test the dwarf’s skills. Unafraid, he wielded a makeshift sword made of wood. He showed off the stances that Barristan the Great had showed him, earning a stare of admiration from Edric. 

“I don’t know. A month possibly.” 

That causes Allyria to groan. “Why did you have to insist on going?” 

Ashara crosses her arms in front of her chest. “I am doing my part in protecting our brother. We can’t trust him if he still allies himself with Rhaegar’s enemy.” Then in a softer tone she adds “I don’t want to lose another brother, Allyria. I won’t be able to survive. . .” 

Allyria’s heart melted and she wrapped her arms around her sister. “I know. Adriyan died too soon.” 

Returning her sister’s embrace, Ashara sighs. “I can’t do much, but at least I can keep an eye on Aerys’ most trusted knight. Make sure that he truly won’t do anything that could make the war end in Aerys’ favor.” 

She nods, lavender eyes cast to their clasped hands as Allyria ran her thumb over one of Ashara’s rings. A shiny opal in the shape of a multi-pointed star, the same one she had on her pinky. “It can be a dangerous journey.” 

That didn’t deter Ashara as she lets go of Allyria’s hands. “The world can be a dangerous place. However, it can also be an exciting one filled with adventure.” 

“At least try to be careful. I know you can be reckless at times.” 

It makes her older sister laugh. “Of course. I intend on returning to Starfall. Make no mistake about that, Allyria.” 

Returning to observing the two young boys, Allyria finds herself frowning. “Is that really Ser Selmy’s squire?” 

“Vaiko? Yes.” 

“Is he. . .” 

Ashara already knew what her sister was thinking. “Yes. That doesn’t seem to stop him though. I quite admire little Vaiko. As far as I know, there has never been a dwarf squire let alone a knight. I’m eager to get to know him better.” 

“I hope the boy prospers under Selmy’s tutelage.” 

“If anyone can make Vaiko a true knight, it’s Barristan Selmy. The only other man who could possibly beat Arthur in a duel.” 

A sly coil of a smile sneaks up on Allyria. “Oh? What about your northern lordling?” 

She refuses to meet Allyria’s teasing grin. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” 

Chin atop the back of her hand, Allyria knew she had cornered her. “I suppose you wouldn’t be interested then in Ned’s most recent act of bravery.” 

Try as she may, Ashara couldn’t keep up the facade of disinterest. “I’m sure its an enthralling story.” 

A handmaid shortly came in to announce that supper was ready.   
**   


Watching the dock hands load the cargo onto the ship, Ashara gazes at the horizon of the Summer Sea. Seagulls wailed above, pestering fish below as they dove into the blue water. A small layer of fog covered the dock in the early morning, bringing a slight chill to Ashara’s bare shoulders. Her intent gaze watched as Selmy carried the chest he had showed her. What was in there? From when she had examined it, there was no latch or even padlock. 

An excited Tyrion follows close behind Barristan, the thumping his boots made against the wooden deck sent tremors in his chest. He had never been on a ship before. Whenever he did travel it was always by carriage, to keep him hidden from public view. The vast ocean ahead of him looked daunting at first. Deep breaths soothed any fear he had. Tyrion would prove to his father that he could do this. 

A pat on his shoulder startles him and Tyrion quickly turns to find Barristan. Behind him, Ashara is making her way aboard with a few Starfall knights that would be accompanying her for safety. 

“Are you sure it’ll be okay that Lady Dayne is accompanying us?” 

Not liking the idea much either, Barristan sighs. “It shouldn’t make much of a difference. From here it will be a straight voyage to Volantis. She’s rightfully suspicious.” 

The question was out of his mouth before Tyrion could reel it back in. “Why are you still in the Kingsguard?” Aerys is a bad man. Everyone knows how unstable he is.” Resentment was laced in there and looking at Tyrion’s cold eyes made Barristan feel uncomfortable. The real question was ‘why do you still protect my sister’s murderer?’ 

“I took the oath before Aerys became king. Under his father Jahaerys. A lifelong vow of loyalty. As long as I am alive, I am to defend and protect whoever sits on the Iron Throne. No matter what. . . To do otherwise would be treasonous.” He tried to explain to Tyrion, but even Selmy knew how pathetic it sounded. He resented himself for still serving Aerys, what could he do though? If he were to go back on his oath, Selmy would possibly be stripped of his knighthood; even executed. 

“Your vow is more important than your morality.” Flatly claimed Tyrion. 

Irked, he glares at the young boy. “What do you know of morality? You’re just a boy.” 

“That may be so, but I know the difference between right and wrong.” Briefly he remembers Cersei’s voice talking quietly with another. Scheming and plotting. That is what Tyrion heard throughout Casterly Rock when he was left to his own devices. Supporting a man that killed innocent people on a whim was definitely wrong. 

Before Selmy could even come up with a reply, Ashara interrupts them. “The captain says the weather bodes well for us. If the winds are kind we should be there in a week or two.” 

Barristan stiffly nods. “Thank you, my lady. We couldn’t do this without you.” From the dock he could make out Allyria Dayne and the pale haired Edric who happily waved at the ship’s passengers. “Will Starfall be okay without you?” 

“Do not worry about Starfall. It is in good hands.” 

The yelling of the dockhands up to the crew alerts them that the ship is about to set sail. A childish sense of wonder seizes Tyrion as he watches the sailors hurriedly get to work. The hubbub of commands was enthralling as they stood off to the side. 

“Is this your first time sailing, Vaiko?” 

“Yes my lady.” His glittering eyes are still trained on the busy crew. The joy of a child was infectious as both Ashara and Barristan enjoyed gazing at Tyrion. Another painful reminder to the knight of the boy’s restricted upbringing. He was experiencing so much; things that anyone else at that age had already experienced. 

“Why do you look sad?” Her question makes Selmy jump partially as he had been stuck in his own melancholy thoughts. 

He tells the partial truth. “Before becoming my squire, Vaiko didn’t have a good life. His father resented him due to his dwarfism and hid him away from the world.” 

Brows furrow looking at the happy boy now. “How terrible. Some people are so small minded, especially in Westeros.” 

Not disagreeing with that statement, guilt starts to ebb at him; recalling how Tyrion had glared at him accusingly moments ago. 

Sailing away from Starfall’s docks, it soon becomes but a small blur behind them. Now for the difficult part of their journey. Sitting and doing nothing for a week. It’ll at least give Tyrion a good opportunity to practice his sword play and maybe Selmy could teach him how to properly utilize that small knife of his as well. In a fight, a knife wasn’t completely useless, just tricky and possibly dangerous if one doesn’t know what they’re doing. The most important thing was adapting to Tyrion’s height and teaching him how to utilize it to his advantage. Barristan prided himself on his patience that helped greatly in figuring out a proper training lesson for Tyrion. He would not fail this boy like his father had. When they returned to Westeros, Tyrion would have everything he needed to survive on his own.


	19. Part 18

Green flames erupted in the distance making the soldiers murmur loudly as explosions went off one after another. The entirety of the King’s Woods were being consumed in a rapid amount of time. 

“Is that. . .” 

An outcry of disbelief as it dawned on the army what those green flames were. “Aerys has truly lost his mind!” 

Gods. . . It was wildfire. 

Ned was near ready to rush in that direction before Robert wraps his arms around him, trapping him against his barrel chest. “No Ned!” 

“They’re in there! Brandon and my father! I have to help them!” Snarling like the direwolf on his chest, Ned struggles against Robert’s grip. “Let me go!” The remaining northmen that didn’t go with Rickard and Brandon were equally as nervous about the welfare of their lord and warden. 

“That’s not going to happen.” Robert had always been stronger than Ned and he used that to his complete advantage at the moment. “You’ll be dead the moment that shit touches you.” 

“They could still be alive.” He doubted his own words, but kArthur held the hope that at least some of the northern men sent out were alive. 

Within seconds the wildfire spread over two acres of land and was threatening to cut off Rhaegar’s path to King’s Landing. 

Oberyn spits on the ground and glares. “We’re going to have to retreat until this damned fire loses energy.” 

“Damn him.” Hisses Griff atop his chestnut horse. He releases the reins in order to throw off his helmet. “If it’s still going by tomorrow Tumbleton could be in danger.” 

“What should we do, Your Grace?” 

There was absolutely no way in them advancing any further. Not until the wildfire was extinguished. 

“For now we switch objectives. Protect the surrounding area and halt the wildfire as much as we can. It can’t go on forever.” Rhaegar shouts out to his troops. “We’ll need sand and lots of it!!”  
  
**  


Brandon couldn’t see out of his right eye as men in black and red dragged him in front of the menacing Iron Throne where Aerys sat. There was so much blood pooling in his mouth that it threatened to drown him if he didn’t spit it out on the ground. Next to him his father Rickard was aggressively shoved to his knees as the Warden of the North glared at Aerys. 

Dirty tricks and an ambush had nearly decimated the northern scouts that were sent ahead of everyone else. When the wildfire had first ignited in front of them, Brandon and Rickard were immediately overwhelmed by Aerys’ men who came out of nowhere. To be killed by the Mad King’s soldiers or by wildfire was a tough choice to make. Instead they were taken captive and separated from the rest of their burning comrades. Needless to say that wasn’t an easy task for anyone to accomplish. Rickard Stark was a bear of a man like many from his part of Westeros. Even more difficult when they tried to go after Brandon. Each Stark man put up a good fight that would be worthy of ballads. It was the wildfire that cornered them, spreading faster than any deadly disease. Within minutes, the whole entire area was a sea of green. 

“The traitor Lord Stark.” Sneers Aerys as he leaned forward. From where Brandon was, he couldn’t see the lines of blood on the tyrant king’s hands as he accidentally brushed up against his own, sharp, throne. Even Aerys’ own throne no longer wanted him seated there. 

Thick, dignified brows grimace in reply as Rickard Stark finally caught his breath. “If it means getting you off of the throne, so be it. I can no longer serve someone like you.” 

“So you put in your resignation as Warden of the North.” 

“No. There will be no need of Warden of the North. I hereby remove the north from the Seven Kingdoms.” 

Rickard’s sincere statement had Aerys silent for a few seconds before he breaks out in laughter. “Awfully presumptuous of you to think you have that kind of power. Torrhen Stark gave up the north to Aegon. He swore fealty and gave up his title as king.” Everyone knew the history of Aegon the Conqueror. It was drilled into all Westerosi children. 

Aegon was the one who brought all of Westeros together. United them so that they wouldn’t squabble over land. 

Such cold and domineering gray eyes did not flinch at the reminder. They remained full of hate and resentment. “Usurper. This land will always belong to the descendants of the First Men.” 

That snapped Aerys out of his snickering. Brandon knew there would be no good outcome. There was only the end. As the Kingsguard dragged Rickard forward, affixing a long chain to his back, Brandon heard himself scream but he was thinking about his siblings. He would never see Ned or Benjen grow into true men. Never get to see Lyanna’s children with Robert Baratheon. Never get to see what his life would be like with Catelyn. Suspended now from the rafters, Rickard still fought even when pyromancers lit a fire beneath his dangling body. Being slowly cooked to death in his own armor, Rickard didn’t cry out in pain. The smell of burning flesh was enough to make Brandon barf had he not been so concerned with getting himself free. 

The curse that Rickard bellowed was enough to strike fear into anyone present. “Let your bloody Stranger take you!!” 

Brandon howled for vengeance, his grief making him claw at his binds in a frenzy. His sword was mere inches away but a length of rope was hastily wrapped around his neck. He couldn’t see who was holding the other end of his noose as he now strained his fingers for his sword pommel. If only he could dislocate them and make them longer. That little boy inside of him prayed to the Old Gods to help him. But her forgot that the Old Gods held no domain in King’s Landing. There was only one weirwood tree and it was far from him. All of his prayers escaped him through bitter tears and spit that started to accumulate on his beat up lip. 

His vision was growing dark as more pressure is applied to his neck. These heathens. They would not honor him with a warrior’s death. 

He couldn’t breathe. 

The last person he saw before his last attempt at life was Varys hiding away behind a column. Pale white with horror at the scene that was playing out. If there was any sort of justice left in this world, Brandon hoped that Varys would truly aid to the downfall of Aerys. 

If it turned out that the Spider was deceiving them, well, Brandon would make sure to haunt him for all of eternity.  
**  


“Your Grace! We found survivors!” 

Never was Ned quick enough to be hopeful, but immediately he sprung from where he was helping the others make a barricade composed of bags of sand. Even some local villagers came to help them. Everyone seemed to freeze in their actions, awaiting with bated breath at some good news. 

Wounded and severely charred men were brought back. Some were so horrendously burned that it was hard to look their way. The more squeamish men had to hold back their sick. 

Right away, Ned noticed a very familiar raven feathered cloak. Lord Blackwood. Tytos Blackwood, still conscious, caught Ned’s eyes. He beckons Ned closer to where he was laid. 

Dropping to one knee, Ned had to suppress the panic in his voice. “Lord Blackwood. . . my father. . .” 

The grimness in his eyes told Ned everything he needed to know. Men behind him whispered of how there was no sign of the Lord of Winterfell and his heir. If they weren’t killed by the wildfire, then. . . 

“They had to have been captured.” Came Rhaegar, a towering shadow in his black armor. 

It would have been better if Rickard and Brandon were killed by the wildfire. If they were captives of Aerys, they would be dead soon enough. It was an unspoken truth that even Ned knew. His father and brother were dead. 

An appropriate silence held them there. 

Tytos was the one to interrupt it with a cough. “Lord Stark.” 

Robert glanced at his childhood friend, the man that he considered his brother. He was now the Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North. Robert understood better than anyone what it was like to have such a title thrust upon you in a quick second. As soon as the news of his parents reached him, he was regarded as the Lord of Storm’s end immediately. A daunting situation that Ned had to face right now. 

Helplessly he looks at Rhaegar. “I’m sorry. I must return to the north. . . They need me now. I need to-” 

A hand on his shoulder, Rhaegar nods. “I understand. Do what you must.” 

The shock that Ned felt at Rhaegar allowing him to leave so easily was soon replaced by immense gratitude as he knelt before him. 

“Rise, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North.” Rhaegar instructed him. He obeyed, lifting himself to come face to face with a man he vowed to repay one day. 

Letting Ned depart to prepare for his journey back home, Griff turns on Rhaegar. “How could you let him go? He’ll be taking the northern army with him!” 

“Either way we can’t advance any further.” His Silver Prince sighs and removes the gloves from his hands. “My father has officially cut us off and has bought himself some time. An extreme measure but it worked.” 

His red hair may have had something to do with his outburst, Griff presses. “We have the Dornishmen, the men of the Stormlands AND Tywin’s men if he keeps to his word.” 

“Look around you Griff. How on earth could we possibly continue? Patience is a virtue. Right now we help those that my father has put at risk thanks to his tactic.” 

“He can sneak up on us just like he did with Lord Rickard.”Countered Griff, and it was equally true. Aerys wasn’t playing by any rules. He would attack as he saw fit. As long as it destroyed Rhaegar. Rhaegar refused to let this war kill his humanity though. 

“Ned Stark will be back.” He replied assuredly. “When the time is right, he will come back. And our army will have been better for it. (y/n) once told me how she and her handmaid found a baby bird. They nursed it back to health but it was still not ready to fly. It took 2 weeks before it was ready to open its wings and fly. Things take time Griff. Either way I can’t prevent my father for doing whatever he does in the future. But I can make myself ready in the meantime and prepare for him. He’s also ruined himself for the time being. Thanks to him cutting off the main road with wildfire, it’ll take days for the roads to clear and for supplies and news to enter King’s Landing. Any raven we see, we capture it and make sure it’s not for Aerys.” 

“You place a great deal of faith in this plan based on a little bird?” It was ridiculous to listen to him any further. But Griff melted a little when a wistful expression makes Rhaegar smile sadly back. The scar that ran diagonally across his face did little to ruin his beautiful features. 

Rhaegar turned back to examining the green wildfire. “I was there. Her maesters told her to just leave it. (y/n) couldn’t bring herself to. She spent so long tending to it. Everyone discouraged her and told her that it would die soon. She never gave up on it though. The bird did come back the following year. It never forgot about (y/n) and the kindness she showed. Do you know what it brought back for her from it’s travels?” 

Griff shook his head. He never bothered to learn anything about Rhaegar’s wife. 

Pressing the heel of his palms together, it made the shape of a clam when his fingers also touched. “It was an oyster. And inside-” He pulled his fingers open “-there were pearls. Patience and determination will eventually pay off. (y/n) taught me that.” Reaching through the neck of his armor, he retrieves a leather pouch and pours out the contents into his hand. Five pearls gleamed up at Griff. 

Dumbly, Jon Connington states “She gave them to you.” 

“I’m not losing faith. Quite the opposite Griff. What my father doesn’t know is that I want the throne more than he will ever. I want the throne to avenge my (y/n). Being a better king than Aerys will right all the wrongs he has done to people.” 

Pursing his lips he thought back to the girl that had his prince still ever enamored. It had been more than a year since (y/n)’s murder and Rhaegar’s love never wavered. Griff doubted that he could love anyone else. A shame for Princess Elia Martell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some characters just can't be saved from their fate :(


End file.
